Fill This Void With Your Poison
by AnaRose17
Summary: Rachel thought she had seen the last of Sam Winchester when he left Stanford without another word. Now, six years later, he's back - but he's not himself, and nothing will ever be the same for her.   Set after 'Swan Song', Season 6
1. Midnight Man

**As much as I'd love to, I do not own Supernatural (sadly that includes the Winchester brothers, too.), only the original plot and characters.**

"Alright. See you tomorrow. I love you." I smiled and hung up with a fuzzy feeling warming me from the inside.

Jack was my dream come true; up-standing, honest, loyal, sweet and caring. Normal.

I pulled my red curls back into a ponytail, stripped out of my jeans, sweater and top and slipped on a washed out shirt and slightly as the cool air hit my bare skin, I quickly slid underneath the covers of my king-sized bed and turned off the light.

As every other night, I would pass the time until sleep took over by thinking of how perfect my life had become. I said 'had become' because it hadn't always been that way. I used to spend my nights – and days – seeking out the products of other – normal - people's darkest imaginations, their worst nightmares.

Countless vampires slain, bones salted and burned, exorcisms performed, lives saved.

I had turned from that life nine years ago. I had built up a life, a normal, perfect life in that time; I had gone to Stanford, had graduated from there and was now working at a respectable law firm. I was engaged to be married to the man I loved, and I was proud to say that I had made the break; I had escaped the dire hunter's life.

I rolled over in bed as my cell vibrated, signalling me I had received a message. With a content smile on my lips, I opened Jack's SMS.

_Good night, Rachel. _

_I just wanted to tell you again that I love you. _

_Sleep well and have sweet dreams, my love. _

I hugged my pillow and closed my eyes. Jack was so sweet, so charming… so completely unlike the men I had known all my life.

Three minutes past midnight, while I was comfortably dozing off into la-la-land, a sound caught my attention. That in itself was nothing unusual, as I heard all kind of things that set me on edge, but this was different; as it was a perfectly normal, every-day sound. There was simply a car coming to a halt down on the street where my apartment lay. But something about that was off, I knew that the same way I knew that a house was haunted, the same way I knew that a monster was right behind me. I felt it, deep inside me, like a voice telling me how to survive.

Noiselessly, I threw back the covers and tiptoed to the window. Leaning on the sill, I peeked down the three stories and saw nothing but a few cars underneath the yellow street lights, heard the usual background noises of San Francisco, the wind rustling outside. Just when I thought I started imagining things, scratches at my door made me almost jump out of my skin.

Hunter instincts kicked in, and I boldly stepped towards the door, prepared to throw it open and kick whoever it was standing behind it where it hurt.

I was taken off guard, though, as the door was opened before I even got the chance to step within reach of the handle. I let out a shriek and backed away, stumbling as my hip caught the cupboard and made the picture frames tumble and fall. A huge shadow entered my apartment, slammed the door shut behind it and stepped towards me.

I clenched my fist and lifted my arm to lash out when the shadow grabbed my wrist in one swift movement. I was about to resort to my legs to kick myself free when the shadow's voice left me motion- and speechless.

"Rachel, calm down, it's me…"

His voice sounded hoarser, older, destroyed, rougher… but there was no doubt. It had been six years since I had last seen him, but that was undoubtedly him.

"Sam?" I wrenched myself free. "What the hell are you doing here? And why on earth are you breaking into my home? How did you even find me?"

"One question at a time, Rachel."

I snorted. "You're damn lucky I didn't shoot you right away."

"As if you'd touch a weapon."

I laughed dryly. I had been so immersed in my thoughts about my previous life just seconds before that I had forgotten nobody knew about my past. "Right. You got me." I hit the light switch.

"Now, you've got a hell lot of-" I stopped abruptly when I took in Sam's appearance. That was not the man I had had a slight crush on all those years ago.

Sure, it was Sam, but it wasn't the Sam I knew.

"What the hell happened to you?" I couldn't keep those shocked whispered words hushing over my lips.

His usual winning smile was wiped completely from his face, replaced by bitter lines around his mouth, his formerly mesmerizing hazel eyes were bloodshot and dull with dark circles underneath them.

Sam didn't answer, but honestly, looking into his eyes, I didn't even want an explanation anymore. I abhorred the endless despair I saw there, as it was frighteningly familiar to me. I had seen it many times, looking back at me from the mirror.

"You look like you could use something to eat." I decided and flipped on the lights in the kitchen. "Beer?"

Sam followed me, eyeing me almost suspiciously, and nodded. "Yeah, that'd be great."

I handed him the opened bottle, slid a plate of lasagne over the table and sat down across from him, warming my hands on a cup of chai tea.

"You look different." Sam noted.

I did, indeed; after I had put down my exorcism book and hunting rifle, I had grown curvier and softer over the years, I had gotten a glow to my face and a bright shine to my eyes. To be honest, I liked those developments, as they were proof of how I had managed to turn my life around.

"It's been six years, Sam." I replied softly. "Honestly, I hadn't quite pictured our reunion like this. Not that I thought you'd _ever_ show up again."

Sam's face was unmoved. "Rachel… I'm sorry for barging in like that…"

"Barging in is kind of putting it mildly." I interrupted cheerfully. "You were breaking into my apartment."

"Fair enough." Sam took a long gulp of his beer.

"Why did you decide to show up after six years of nothing? I mean, that night you left… no explanation, nothing, no address to find you, no phone number, nada. Do you have any idea how worried we all were?"

"I needed some space. Some time off."

"I get that, believe me, I do, but you weren't the only one who grieved over Jess. She was one of my best friends, Sam, and I could have really needed you back then, you know."

Sam looked at me with those hopeless, bitter eyes, and didn't answer. I could feel my heart ache at how much he had changed – not to the better.

I sighed. "Look, I don't want to bring this all up now. It's obvious you have other concerns right now than how I felt half a decade ago, and I want to be honest: It's good seeing you again. Although you do look like crap."

Sam snorted. "Thanks for the cheering up."

"Nothing personal." I smiled. "I'm just worried about you."

Sam frowned and scrutinized me with that suspicious look again. I gave an inner sigh. He used to be different… What had gone so terribly wrong?

"Look, I have no idea why you showed up at my home, in the middle of the night, after six years of not one word from you. I don't know what happened to you and… I don't know whether you'll talk about it. But I'm telling the truth when I say that I'm glad to see you again, however weird the circumstances may be… and you're welcome to stay until you figure things out." I've never been known to be a perfectly rational person when I was off the battle field that was called court.

Frankly, I was probably nuts.

I mean, Sam didn't exactly look stable right now, I didn't know what he was up to, and the fact he wouldn't talk about it should tell me it was bad mojo… but as I said, I wasn't exactly a rational thinker. Right now, I was just glad that he was alive, and I felt that need to help him. Despite his cute, intriguing and innocent charm obviously gone, he still had the ability to work that lost-puppy-thing that had made girls fall for him all through college – well, for the three years he'd been there, anyways.

"Why would you do that?" Sam raised his eyebrows. "Why would you care?"

"Why not?"

"You already said; it's been six years, and I never called you once during that whole time. I don't think I exactly deserve calling onto your help."

"Sweetie, you broke into my house. Now might not be the best time to work the humble 'But I don't deserve it' strategy. Besides… some years ago, at least, you'd have done the same for me."

Sam looked off into the distance, and I was already expecting him not to answer, when he quietly said: "That hasn't changed, Rachel. Truth be told, I came to see you because…"

"What?"

Finally he looked up to meet my eyes. "Because I didn't know where else to go but here. You were the only one I could think of."

Things had to be worse than I had guessed; Sam had family, that much I knew, and he hadn't needed me the past six years, so why the sudden change? Despite the strangeness of the situation, I felt flattered and honoured by his words, his trust. Sure, I should have been pissed that he thought he could just show up here and expect me to drop everything and invite him back into my life – but I was more forgiving than that. Besides, it was obvious he was up to his neck in trouble and despair.

"Well, I ain't exactly the Ritz, so I hope my couch is good enough for the time being."

Sam attempted a smile and was half-way successful. "I'd even take the floor after the night I've been through."

"Should you ever feel like talking about it… I'll listen. Just so you know," I replied quietly. "Now that we're done with the sentimental exchange of feelings, I'm gonna go get the couch ready. You holler if you need anything." I patted his shoulder as I passed him. Sam had changed, too; he'd gotten even more muscular, broader, more impressive. His face was more edged, ragged almost. Even more handsome.

Whoa, how'd that thought end up in my mind?

I shook my head and pulled out an extra duvet out of the cupboard.

"Rachel, you don't need to put up such an effort-"

"Shush it." I cut him off. "First off, it isn't a bother, and second, you look bummed out enough already, I don't think we need to add another night of bad sleep to the list."

Sam chuckled. "Maybe you haven't changed all too much, Rachel."

I smiled and re-arranged the pillows. Straightening up again, I caught Sam frowning as he looked at my hand. His eyes met mine. "You're engaged?"

"Yes. Have been for almost two years now." I sighed. "After you left, life went on here… after a stupor that felt like eternity." I added quietly. "After months of trying to get over Jess's death and of trying to reach you, I started getting back to my life… Jack helped me get through a hard time. He's a great guy."

Sam frowned ever-so-slightly. Maybe he caught the tone of my speech; that wasn't the way a girl normally talks about a guy she's madly in love with and is going to marry soon.

Well, I wasn't a normal girl.

"It's good to see you again, Sam." I said and hugged him briefly. "Make yourself at home." The excitement of an old friend breaking into my home at midnight was beginning to calm down, and exhaustion made my eyelids feel extremely heavy.

"Rachel."

I turned on the threshold to my bedroom.

"Thank you."

I nodded. "Sure. Good night."

If only I had known that I hadn't only invited an old friend back into my life, but also my past… I might have acted differently that night.

When my alarm clock ripped me out of a deep sleep, I thought it to be a bad joke. I pended between either smashing that annoying, beeping piece of crap with a sledgehammer or simply throw it out the window with full force. I ended up just turning it off and calling in sick.

Hey, it wasn't everyday you got confronted by a friend you thought forever lost, moreover a friend whose head you nearly blew off when he snuck into your apartment at midnight.

I sunk back into the comfortable, soft covers and closed my eyes again, immediately drifting off to sleep.

Three hours later, at ten in the morning, I was awoken again, though much more subtle and gently this time. A mouth-watering smell of bacon, toast and coffee wavered through the door and filled my nostrils.

'How'd Jack get in here unnoticed…?' I wondered dazedly as I struggled to get up.

Oh, right. Jack probably sat at his desk like every other morning – Sam.

I pulled on a sweater and trotted into the kitchen, just to have my heart nearly jump out my chest upon the sight I got. It wasn't so much the set breakfast table waiting for me as rather a shirtless Sam standing in my kitchen.

God, that man was a sight. Or rather: Sigh, that man was a God.

I forced my breathing to calm down. "Wow, a guy who can cook, I'm impressed. To what do I owe the honour?"

Sam looked at me, and I was relieved to see that he looked a hell lot better than last night. A one-sided smile lighting up his face, he replied: "Good morning to you too." He handed me a cup of coffee. "Thought at least some reciprocation for yesterday night was overdue."

I smiled back at him. "Well, if that's the pay-out… feel free to break in every night."

Alright, Rachel, stay focused on his eyes… don't let your gaze wander to his really, really divine and…perfect chiselled chest… and that six-pack…. Um…. Right, eyes.

I was glad when I could pretend to be extremely caught up with buttering my toast and heaping bacon onto my plate. Though I couldn't completely resist a little peak at his chest again… and the interesting tattoo on it.

"Did you always have that?" I discreetly nudged at his upper chest.

"Hm? Oh, that. No. Got it a few years back." He sipped at his coffee, and I decided to leave it.

"I don't suppose you want to tell me what you've been doing all these years?" I asked casually.

"Rachel… I would, believe me, I would… but it's better if you don't know."

Biting back my curiosity, I nodded. "Sounds ominous. For the time being, I'll let you through with that."

"'For the time being?'" Sam raised his eyebrows, and doing that, he almost reminded me of the Sam I had known.

"You know me, I'm a curious person, and I think I do have a right to know."

"Maybe, but even if, I still won't tell you."

"Oh, yeah, and why's that, Sam Winchester?"

"Because I don't want you to get hurt. I don't want to drag you into this, Rachel."

"Then why did you come here? Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you did, but still… I just want to understand, Sam."

I could see how his (impressive) muscles tensed, and that's when I realized that his issues ran deeper than just a week of bad sleep and financial problems, or whatever it was that I had suspected. I wasn't even sure.

"Maybe some other time, Rachel."

"Okay." We both knew he would never tell me.

The intercom buzzed. Frowning, I got up and answered. "Yeah?"

"Hey, honey, it's me. I heard you called in sick today, and I came to make sure you're okay."

F-U-C-K with a capital F.

"Oh, um, er, hi, Jack." I ran a hand through my messy hair nervously. "Look, sweetheart, I'm fine, just a cold and a headache. No worry."

"Well, I'm sure you could use some cheering up and some company. Let me up, will you?" Jack chuckled. "It's freezing cold out here, and I really want to see you."

I bit my lips. There was nothing I could say to keep him out – well, I could say I had cholera or something equally abhorrent and contagious, but I somehow doubted he'd believe me.

Wordlessly, I pressed the buzzer and broke the connection.

"I. Am. So. Screwed."

I practically ran back into the kitchen.

"Who was it?" Sam asked, rather out of formality than real interest.

"My fiancée." I replied with forced calm. "Sam, sweetie, you don't think you could do me the favour and put on a shirt? I won't even ask you to climb into my closet, as I think that'll make the situation ahead of me even worse, but if Jack sees you, like that, I'm a dead woman. Or, at least, a single one."

Sam cocked an eyebrow and looked at me with something that resembled amusement a little too much for my comfort. "So, what, I'm a threat to Jack?"

"Uh, let's see… you're 6'4 feet tall, amazingly good-looking and extremely well built, and, oh yeah, you're temporarily standing half-naked in my kitchen at 12 in the morning, so yeah, I dare say that might lead Jack to think I am a little less than faithful."

Sam's lips curled into a barely hidden smile.

"Now put on a shirt, will you?" I pushed him into the living room, trying to ignore how firm his body felt under my hands and how smooth his skin was.

Then Jack already knocked at my door. I hurried to answer, throwing a quick glance in the mirror as I passed it. I looked way too healthy, way too normal.

I was so screwed.

"Hello, love." Jack greeted me with a warm smile and a kiss on the cheek. As I said, he was a sweet guy… not the most passionate, but I had had my fill of those, anyways.

"Hey, honey." I tried my best to make my voice sound scratchy without sounding too theatrical. "How nice of you to check up on me."

"Sweetheart, we're getting married in three weeks, I've got to do everything to make sure you're well until then." He winked at me and entered, hung up his coat, placed the box of chocolates on the dresser and made his way to the living room.

"Oh, um Jack, there's something I have to-"

"What the hell?"

"-tell you." I finished with a sigh. And here we go.

"Jack…" I hurried into the living room after him, just in time to jump inbetween the glaring contest those two had put up within three seconds of knowing each other. Well, if that wasn't a perfect base to build up a productive conversation. "This is my old friend Sam, you know, the one who went to Stanford with me?"

"Right… the one who left without a word?"

Sam's eyes twitched dangerously.

"Sam, this is my fiancée Jack." My voice was insistent, maybe even threatening. Last thing I needed was a jealousy scene. Not that I thought Jack was actually capable of that… but you never knew. Some years ago, I would have said Sam wouldn't be the type for it, either…but I wasn't sure about that any longer.

Hell, I didn't know anything anymore.

The two men glared at each other, and the probability that they'd take each other's hand was somewhere in the minus hundreds.

"Well, excuse my fiancée and me for a sec." Jack snapped unusually hostile and pulled me out of the living room and into the kitchen, closing the door behind us.

"So, that's your sickness? I gotta say, it has an impressive appearance."

"Jack, this is not what you think!"

"No? Then what is that guy doing in your apartment?"

"Look, Sam needed a place to stay, I told him he could stay at my house. He's a friend, nothing more."

"I would like to believe you, Rachel, I really would – but I can't."

"What?" I breathed incredulously. "Jack, what the hell? Nothing is going on between Sam and me, alright? How can you not believe me?"

"Well, for one, you look perfectly healthy, so why would you call in sick if not to enjoy your togetherness with him? For another: You told me that you haven't seen that guy in six years-"

"And I haven't!"

"Then why does he get to sleep over without you even questioning his integrity, while you always insist on us living in our own apartments? We're engaged, Rachel, for heaven's sake! Yet a practical stranger receives the privilege of staying at your apartment while I don't, now you tell me what's wrong with that! Maybe Sam isn't such a stranger after all?"

I was speechless by the subliminal aggressiveness of his words. I hadn't taken Jack to be so quick to jump to false conclusions, much less to take his anger out on me. "Jack…"

"Save it, Rachel." He turned from me and would have walked out on me if Sam hadn't blocked the doorway.

"Why don't you trust her, Jack? If she said nothing happened, shouldn't you believe her?"

"Get out of my way."

"You don't know what you're throwing away when you walk out that door, Jack." Sam's words were spoken so low I almost couldn't understand them. I wasn't sure if I had heard him right.

I had to have heard wrong, as Jack walked out on me anyways.

Sam turned to me slowly. I was only woken from my stupor when he addressed me: "Rachel?"

"Huh?"

"I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be." I smiled bravely. "It's not your fault my fiancée is a stubborn jerk."

"Still, if it wouldn't be for me being here…"

"Sam, it's okay. Really. Jack will cool off, apologize… this isn't the first fight between us." Sure, none of the previous ones had been about alleged unfaithfulness, and none had ended with one walking out on the other, but who kept score.

"Rachel…not for nothing, but are you sure he's the right one?"

"Huh? What do you mean?"

Sam held up the box of chocolates Jack had brought me. "Well, half of these are marzipan."

"So…?"

"You hate marzipan." Sam said as if it were the most obvious fact of the world.

I felt annoyance twitch at my heart. "Says who?" I snapped, not liking how he was right and that he had a point criticizing my relationship.

"You did, on numerous occasions."

"So? My taste could have changed over the past years." I narrowed my eyes. Who the hell did he think he was, waltzing in here, into my life, and dare make any judgements?

Sam snorted. "I doubt that."

"What makes you such an expert? You haven't seen me in six years, Sam." And still you seem to know me better than the guy I'm going to marry.

"No, indeed I haven't… but as I recall, your favourite is white chocolate. Or, at least, it used to be."

I didn't quite know how to name that feeling spreading inside of me. All I knew was that it felt good. "You remember that?"

Sam smiled at me, and only his so obviously aged face differed from the Stanford Sam now. "Yeah. And I also know you're still using that same vanilla fragrance."

"How come you remember such petty things about me?" I asked with a smile, the hurt over Jack's outburst ceasing and myself reconciling with the fact Sam judged my relationship.

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe for the same reason why you came to my mind when I thought about where I could go… I don't have a lot of people in my life that I trust, Rachel. You're one of them."

"Then tell me what happened." I whispered.

"I already told you that I can't. I won't see you get hurt because of me."

"Well, what can possibly be so bad that just telling me already gets me into trouble?"

"Trust me, Rachel: You don't want to know." Coldness surfaced in him again, in his voice, his expression, his posture… it felt like I was losing him without ever having won him back.


	2. Fervent Fantasies

**Usual deal: Don't own anything you recognize.**

**Reviews are love! :) **

"Alright, I've got shopping to do… want to come along?" I asked as casually as I could without my wish shining through that I would very much like Sam with me. I couldn't tell you where that feeling came from, I just knew it was there, and it was pounding against my skull (and rib cage) like a pneumatic hammer.

Sam looked at me as if I'd had asked him whether he wanted a million dollars; suspicious, tempted to say yes but not quite trusting whether there weren't any strings attached.

"Sure," he eventually said.

"Okay, great," I smiled and turned around to get changed.

'Man, my life is weird,' I thought as I changed into a grey wool dress that reached to just above my knees, black boots and my favourite leather jacket. Packing a survival kit into my handbag – no longer consisting of shotgun, holy water and knife, but of money, keys, cell phone and chapstick – I wrapped a green scarf sloppily around my neck and called out: "Alright, I'm ready, let's go."

I had always wondered about the expression 'to feel somebody's eyes on you', as it was a sensation I exclusively experienced on hunting trips, when a prickling tingle at the back of my neck told me the monster was watching me. Whenever I had encountered that expression in real life, though, it mostly stood in the context of people.

Walking down the stairs – I didn't trust elevators, a fact that greatly amused Sam somehow – I found out how that worked, too, to 'feel somebody's eyes' on me; a pleasant, warming shiver trailing down my spine like honey. Sam's eyes were on my back, and it brought a smile to my face for no apparent reason.

"So, you're scared of elevators, huh?" He remarked casually as we were walking towards my car, our steps echoing from the concrete walls of the underground parking garage.

"No, I'm not, I just don't like the feeling of my life hanging on a thread." I snapped, piqued, and pressed the button to unlock the doors.

'Literally,' I added in thought.

Sam chuckled as he got in beside me. Inside the car he seemed even more intimidating, even more impressive than out in open space. My heart race sped up; I wasn't sure whether it was due the confined space or our shoulders touching for a brief moment. "That, or you're claustrophobic."

I snorted. "Claustrophobic? Please." Then I remembered a small fact that immediately cured my hurt pride and conjured a wicked smile to my lips. Allowing myself a side-glance at Sam as I steered my little Audi out of the garage, I pointedly said: "At least, I'm not afraid of clowns."

Sam glared at me. "I can't believe you remember that. And I still can't believe Jess told you."

"Sweetie, girls tell each other everything. Sadly, that doesn't seem to apply for guys, as otherwise, I would already know what you've been up to all these years."

"Smooth, Rachel, but no."

"Fine. It was worth a try." I smiled weakly. "Will you at least tell me _how_ you've been?"

"Pending somewhere between bad and like hell."

I ripped my eyes from the traffic to look at Sam. It was all I could do not to hit the breaks. "Sam… I'm sure Jess wouldn't have wanted you to-"

"It's not about Jess." Sam interrupted me curtly, his voice betraying no emotion, matching his expression in coldness.

A heavy stone dropped to my stomach, at least, that's what it felt like.

"I mean, it was, at first… but it hasn't for a long time."

I sighed and pushed down the accelerator as the light flashed green. "What trouble did you get into, Sam?"

"You might say I got into hell's kitchen."

"That doesn't sound good. Whatever it is, though, I'm sure it can be fixed. Just let me help you."

"I'm not lying when I say that it's been hell lately, Rachel. Last thing I want to do is drag you into this. Apart from that, I cannot be helped."

"Sam," I parked the car a little more abruptly then I had intended, "I've had it. Either stop talking in riddles and start being honest with me, or be the guy I know again. Because this… it's not you."

"I'm not the same guy I was at Stanford, Rachel!"

"I get that, believe me. I know that people change. But they don't turn a complete 180. Something's wrong, I can tell, and I just want to know what it is."

"Be careful what you wish for."

I huffed. "You're already back in my life, Sam, and if I had wanted to kick you out, I'd have done so already. Hell, I wouldn't even have let you in yesterday night. So whatever crap you've stepped in, I'll be there to help you. You've got nothing to lose. Might as well lay your cards open."

"Rachel… the things that have happened… I can't explain."

If he had still been capable of expressing emotions, then I'm sure he'd have sounded desperate and hopeless now – but he didn't. Yet I knew that Sam was torn apart inside, and God knows that I know how that goes.

So I made a great mistake.

I stopped inquiring and just let Sam stay in my life, hoping that I could help him, fix him. Without ever demanding the truth, I let him stay with me, because I entertained the honest hope he'd open up one day and let me help him.

I was anything if not loyal, and Sam might not be the same, he might be completely different than the guy I had gone to college with, but he had been and maybe still was my friend, and he needed help. I believed that parts of the old Sam were still in there, buried deep... it was foolish naivety, but I didn't know that then.

So instead of telling Sam to just go to hell and let me live my life, I sighed and said, looking into his hazel eyes: "Okay. I'll stop asking – but I really wish you'll tell me the moment you feel like you can talk about it. Until then, I'd greatly appreciate it if we can just pretend everything's normal."

Sam looked at me for a long time, before his lips eventually curved into a faint smile and he said: "Have you always been that great, or do I only realize that now?"

"What kind of question is that? Of course I've always been that awesome." I looked at him as if he just stated that the world was indeed not a disc, grabbed my purse and got out of the car with a smile on my lips.

"Okay, so that's what this place looks like when it's not swarmed by end of work shoppers. Huh. Who knew." I looked around the supermarket as if it were a completely new world to me.

"Long work hours?" Sam asked.

"Well, the usual 8 to 6 job… sometimes it gets to be 7 or 8 pm. Am I allowed to ask what you work or is that touching our 'don't ask, don't tell' agreement?" I threw a bag of toast into the cart.

"Interesting how matter-of-fact you are about this."

"Well, sweetie, you don't leave me a lot of other options."

"Still, most people wouldn't have reacted the way you did."

I raised my eyebrows and replied in a low voice: "I'm not most people."

"Yeah. I'm starting to get that."

Whatever that meant.

"Hey, Ral?"

"Yeah?" I took a step back from the stove to look at Sam in the living room.

"May I use your computer? I need to look something up."

"Sure, go ahead," I resumed my cooking. While waiting for the rice to be done, the phone rang. With a frown, I picked up. "Yeah."

"Rachel, it's me."

Immediately my former good mood was wiped away. "Jack."

"Look, honey, I am so sorry about before. I don't know what made me act that way… I didn't want to walk out on you. I love you, and when you say that Sam's just a friend, I believe you."

"Jack… if you didn't want to walk out on me, then why did you?"

"Because I didn't know what else to do. I was confused. Please, Rachel, forgive me."

I sighed. "Of course. I forgive you. Just promise me that something like that doesn't happen again."

"It won't, ever. I love you."

"I love you, too."

"So, everything okay between Jack and you?"

I jumped at the sudden sound of Sam's voice. I hadn't even noticed him sneaking up beside me, and that's saying something considering he's not exactly easy to overlook. "Oh, yeah… I didn't expect us to separate, really. Jack's not that type of person."

Sam nodded absent-mindedly. Inwardly, I shook my head once again at how different he was, though I was already starting to adapt to this new Sam. "Set the table, sweetie, will you?"

With a funny face – the same he always made when I called him 'sweetie' – he opened a drawer and got out the cutlery. "Sure. Rach."

I glared at him. "You know I hate that nickname." I hated it because it sounded like 'rage', and that, I had sworn myself, would never enter my life again.

"Well, I'm not really comfortable with being called 'sweetie', either."

Involuntarily, I had to laugh. Calling 6'4, brooding-grim-face Sam 'sweetie' really was a little strange. Somehow ironic. "Alright. Truce?"

"Truce."

I placed our plates onto the dining table and sat down.

"Rachel… I don't know how long it'll take me to…get back on track. I can't just live off you for an indefinable time."

"Why not?" I asked matter-of-factly as it was my style.

"Excuse me?"

"Sam…" I swirled the wine in my glass around, "This is going to sound a little strange...okay, maybe really strange, but… it feels good to have you around, and I don't want to see you leave again so soon. Stay, please."

"I don't think I ever heard anybody tell me that," Sam let out a dry laugh.

"Well, I'm telling you now. So, take your time figuring it out. My couch is all yours."

Sam actually smiled, and it was sincere.

"Feel like watching a movie?" I beamed.

Sam looked up from the laptop. I didn't know what that man was so desperately looking for… but I had promised not to ask, so I didn't.

Sam's been with me for two weeks now. Though he wasn't the easiest and most cheerful person to be around these days, I loved having him stay with me. It felt right, and I enjoyed coming home and not having yawning emptiness waiting for me.

Unwillingly, I had gone back to work, though I somehow lacked the enjoyment in it… it was like any second I spent in my office would be worth thrice as much if I spent it with Sam.

Jack had more or less accepted my closeness to Sam, though I didn't think he was all too amused about it… I didn't even want to know the extent of the discussion ahead of me, seeing as we would be married in one week and Jack was intent on moving in together.

Frankly, that thought felt more than uncomfortable to me.

I didn't know how Sam spent the time while I was working, I just knew he didn't stay in my apartment the whole day – sometimes he would come back in the middle of the night, but I was always too tired to get up and ask where he'd been. In the mornings, I didn't want to know any longer.

"Sure, as long as it's not another episode of 'Gossip Girl' or whatever crap they call TV these days."

"Hey. My TV: my shows; besides, a baseball game is about a thousand times lamer and less entertaining than just two minutes of Gossip Girl."

"Doesn't this strike you as a slightly stereotypical conversation?" Sam got up, poured me a glass of wine and took a beer from the fridge for himself.

I settled on my couch – which was solely for sitting again now, I had cleared my spare room and made it into a guest room (though Sam felt more like a room mate than a guest) – and took my beloved red wine from him. "Not my fault you're so uptight."

Huffing, Sam let his giant frame fall onto the opposite end of the couch. "Oh, so now I'm the uptight one."

I grinned and playfully slapped his side. "Shut up and pick a movie. And turn on the TV while you're at it."

"Do I look like your personal slave?"

"Yes, absolutely." I sipped my wine.

Sam shook his head and got up again to switch on the TV and DVD player. "Unbelievable."

I appreciatively inspected his back as he crouched down to put the DVD in. I could see the muscles rippling through the fabric of his grey shirt, and I almost imagined how it'd feel running my hands over his bare skin.

Crap. I believed I had been past having such wrong thoughts.

"Anything else I can get you, your highness?"

"A pony for my birthday."

Sam rolled his eyes and resumed his seat. "Hope this is to your liking," he held up the cover of the TV show NCIS, fourth season.

"Acceptable. As long as you promise to hold my hand when it gets bloody."

Sam shot me a frowning side-ways glance that I couldn't quite make out. I had given up on trying to fully understand him.

When we reached the third episode, I shifted and leaned against Sam. I didn't particularly think about it, it felt somehow natural. Catching his confused glance at me, I stated matter-of-factly: "My couch, my rules. You've been promoted to my personal pillow."

Sam let out a huff that sounded almost like a laugh.

"Though I gotta say you're damn uncomfortable," I spent two minutes making myself comfortable in his arms. That man was a mountain of muscle.

"So sorry to be of any inconvenience." Sarcasm drooped from his voice.

"Yeah, you better be." I grumbled. "Hand over the chocolate. And turn a little. Put your arm up." I took said arm and lifted it so I could cuddle into his chest, then dropped it on the back rest.

"You're the bossiest person I've ever met. And that's saying something, considering I spent my life with a brother like Dean."

"I would love to meet him. I'm sure we'd get along great." I replied, unimpressed by his reproach.

Sam didn't answer. Probably his thoughts drifted off to that place again where I had no access to, and would never have.

"You've got chocolate on your lips."

Part of me went all hot at the picture of Sam kissing it away… but I was so shocked at that unwanted thought barging into my mind uninvited that I quickly licked the chocolate away before I could get any more stupid ideas.

***

Somewhere during the fourth episode of NCIS, Rachel fell asleep in Sam's arms.

He watched her content face, wondering why she cared so much. He wasn't sure what had made him seek her out, of all people, when he'd woken up in that muddy field in Lawrence…back from hell.

What had he expected coming here? Rachel was part of his past.

He had no right dragging her into this mess. Yet even the knowledge that he was putting her in danger staying with her could not make him leave. It was almost as if he didn't care that he threatened her life and her happiness… though he should.

So why didn't he? Why didn't he feel guilty that he put Rachel in danger?

Before he could give himself an answer, Rachel sighed and shifted slightly in her sleep. He could have woken her when the credits rolled over the screen. He could have woken her when he reached for the remote and turned the TV off. He could have woken her as he remained seated there, on Rachel's couch, her in his arms, and wondered what he was going to do.

But Sam didn't move. He spent hours listening to Rachel's steady breathing, feeling her chest rise and fall like clockwork as she leaned on him, watching her sleep until the sun rose.

***

Stretching as I came back from dreamland into the real world, I felt somebody else lying beside me, or rather, underneath me.

Huh.

I hadn't been aware that Jack had come over… wait a sec… this was so definitely not Jack. Way too big, too muscular, too strong…

As I opened my eyes, I realized I was on my couch, in my living room, with Sam, instead of in my bed, in my bedroom, alone. Quite a nice change.

Though it might turn out to be an awkward one.

"Morning," I stretched and looked up into Sam's hazel eyes that glowed slight greenish shade in the early morning light.

"Morning," he smiled and, very untypical for him, gently brushed strands of hair out of my face.

"Sorry for putting you on lockdown all night," I grinned and got up, "You were more comfortable than I thought."

A strangely content expression darted over Sam's face. "No problem."

"I'll make breakfast to compensate for your numb limbs."

"Sounds fair."

With a smile, I got to work. Pancakes, coffee, maple syrup, the whole nine yards – it was Saturday, after all.

"So, one week until the big day," Sam stated conversationally as he heaped another pancake onto his plate.

"Yeah," I mumbled, poking at my food.

"Shouldn't you be overwhelming with joy, or panicking, anything?"

"Stop being so damn observant."

"It's not that hard to notice."

I sighed and sipped at my coffee. As a matter of fact, I would have been excited beyond bonds… if it weren't for the slight detail of things having changed since Sam stepped back into my life. I hadn't stopped loving Jack, but I had this gnawing doubt that he might not be the right one for me. I suppose Sam had noticed, too, that I was home every night – never at Jack's place, and Jack never came over, either… I spent more time with Sam than my fiancée.

"It's just the calm before the storm," I eventually said.

Sam nodded slowly, and I could see from the distant look on his face that he was elsewhere with his thoughts again.

"What are your plans for today?"

I looked up from my pancake at the unexpected question. "Well… I'd have to say I don't have any… don't even think about commenting on my sad social life."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Sam grinned, "Let's go to the Christmas market today."

"Huh?" I intelligently choked on the bite I was about to swallow.

"Yeah, let's just take a day off. It's a few towns over. Should be fun. They've got a few rides, market stalls…"

"Whoa, okay, okay. Who are you and what have you done with Sam?"

"Excuse me?"

"You've been a brooding heap of silent depression for the past two weeks, and suddenly you want to go to a Christmas market?"

"Yeah, why not? I just think it'd be…a nice change."

Still a little confused at the sudden change of course, I nodded. "Okay. Sure. Give me half an hour to get ready."

While I was getting dressed and put make-up on, I felt joyous excitement building up – I still had no idea as to what had caused this sudden cheerful streak in Sam, but I was glad.

"You look…good."

"There goes compliment of the year," I huffed humorously. Sam had always had trouble with matters like 'how to compliment a girl properly'. He was always so adorable about it, though, that he was forgiven.

Hell, why did I even care? I would marry Jack in a week; I so shouldn't bother about Sam's thoughts on me.

Let alone should I really spend a whole Saturday with him… guilt gnawed at me when I hit 'send' on my text message to Jack to tell him I was busy today and couldn't come over.

"You mind if I drive?"

"Normally, yes, I would mind. But you got me in a charitable mood." I tossed Sam the keys over the car. He caught them one-handed and manoeuvred his giant frame onto the driver's seat.

"Just to get this straight, Sam: Just because we are currently living together does not mean you get to drive my precious baby regularly. This is a one-time occurrence."

"You remind me of Dean more every day."

I put my seat belt on and wondered what Sam's brother was like. Sam didn't talk about him often, and I was pretty sure it was because it was too painful, too filled with regret, for him. Who knew why.

"I bet you're glad there won't be any clowns around," I teased when Sam pulled onto the muddy meadow that was labelled 'parking lot'. Getting out of the car, I wondered whether they offered boats to carry you over the wet field that rather resembled a marsh than a meadow.

"I bet that you are glad it's in an open space."

"Jerk."

I caught the flinch Sam's face made. It lasted for just the fraction of a second, but it was there. I let out an inner sigh – when would that man finally get over himself and talk about his issues?

"Let's start with eggnog and glogg."

"Do I sense the first signs of approaching alcoholism?"

I huffed. "You're the driver today, so I can drink as much as I want. Gotta use an opportunity when it arises."

As we ambled over the market, looking at the stands, stopping for a warming cup of glogg and waffles, Sam's arm ended up around my shoulders. It was a perfectly normal, natural movement, and I laid my arm around his waist instinctively, it was practically a reflex. I didn't bother thinking about it then, that detail only appeared to my mind days later.

"Hey, shooting gallery," Sam nudged towards said stand.

"I'm a pacifist," I replied dryly and continued sucking my candy cane.

Sam chuckled, "Cute."

"But I do bet I'll win by two hits."

"Alright. What are we betting for?"

"You sound quite sure of yourself," I cast a side-ways glance at him.

Sam smiled in that typical arrogant manner of men when they think they're on their field of expertise. Wait and see, Sammy.

"Here's what we shoot for: You lose, you tell me everything about your life before you came to Stanford, and your family."

I frowned. "What the hell of a bet is that?"

"So it's on?"

Thoughts raced through my mind at lightning speed. I could always stick to the lie I had always told… but I had a sneaky feeling I would have trouble lying to Sam. What other option did I have, though?

I took a deep breath. "Fine. I win, you do the same."

"Sounds fair." Sam took the rifle, or whatever that toy thing was supposed to resemble, and leaned onto the counter.

Seven shots, seven hits.

A queasy feeling spread in my solar plexus. It wasn't only the fact that I would have to beat him now… it was also that I wasn't sure how I should feel about Sam being such a great shot. He'd have to have learned it somewhere.

The gallery owner reloaded the rifle and handed it to me. His patronizing, slightly pitiful look as he passed it to me tipped the scale; I had been considering losing just to not have to explain where I'd learnt shooting and just rattle down the lie I had told everybody who'd asked. Now, though, with that sexist asshole on the other side of the counter, my pride rudely protested against losing.

I daringly looked at Sam, who responded with a self-satisfied hint of a grin, then I turned around and pulled the trigger seven times.

Seven hits.

I straightened up and looked at Sam. "So… did we both lose or win?"

Sam's eyebrows were raised in appreciative surprise, then he looked at me with an indefinable look – I would have almost said danger and threat lay in his hazel eyes. "Either way, it's a tie."

With that, he took the rifle from me, laid it down and put his arm around my shoulders again. It was still a comfortable feeling, but it had somehow lost its natural touch. I refused thinking about what I had believed to have seen in Sam's eyes, and instead returned to the light, carefree feeling that I hadn't enjoyed in a long time.

We walked past the little hut where Santa sat, little children on his lap, and listened to their wish lists. I had to smile bitterly, hoping Sam wouldn't notice – but he did.

"What?" He asked in a tone so gentle and soft, I had never heard it from him.

"Nothing," I shook my head.

"Rachel, come on."

I shook my head. "No. It's nothing happy, and I don't want to ruin this day."

"Ral… let me tell you from own experience that locking everything up isn't going to help any."

"Is that why you won't talk about what happened to you?" I shot back snappily.

"That's different."

"How do you know? I haven't told you my story."

"So why don't you and I'll tell you that it really is not the same?"

I took a deep breath. "For the record, I don't even know why I'm telling you this. But… I think that it might indeed feel good to talk about it to someone."

Maybe I just imagined Sam pulling me a little closer to him.

"Jack and I were supposed to get married over a year ago… I was pregnant, and everything was great. But… I miscarried in the fourth month. Jack and I got over it pretty well, I mean, we had our trouble coming to terms with having lost our baby, but we got through it together. We moved the wedding, since it appeared a bad time to celebrate. Two months later, I was pregnant again, but I lost the child. We didn't make it to fifth month. It almost tore Jack and me apart." I had to swallow down the lump in my throat. "And now, every time I see a child, I'm thinking how I am supposed to have one, too."

Sam didn't say anything for a while, he just kept his arm around my shoulders as we stepped through the mud. "I'm sorry, Rachel. Not only that you lost your children, but also for asking. I shouldn't have pressed you."

I shook my head and wiped away the tear that had crept from my eye. "No, it's okay. It actually felt… relieving."

Sam brushed a tear from my cheek with his thumb. I closed my eyes for a brief second to enjoy that rare sign of affection. "I think you could use that eggnog now."

I had to smile. "As long as you get me home safe."

"Of course. I'll make sure you're always safe."

It wasn't something I planned, let alone something I was aware of. When I came to my senses again, I just knew that I had stopped and kissed Sam.

Luckily, I realized it soon enough to call it a friendly kiss. Hoping he'd blame the coldness for the blush rising to my cheeks, I mumbled: "Thank you, Sam. Really."

If he was surprised or taken aback by the kiss, he surely didn't show it.

That night, I fell asleep with Sam on the couch again, and this time, I didn't even feel the slightest bit of guilt or embarrassment anymore.

During those days, I thought that Sam coming back into my life might have well been the best thing to have ever happened to me. Little did I know how short-tempered Fortuna could be.


	3. Devilish Date

**Thanks for alerting and favoriting! :) Special thanks to niknakz93 for her support! **

**Warning: Contains sexual content **

"Hey, Rachel, can I ask you something?"

"Anything," I replied cheerfully as I poured the pasta into the sieve in the sink.

"It's rather personal."

"When isn't it?"

Sam put my daily glass of wine onto the table and waited until I sat down before he continued: "Well, I couldn't help but notice you're never sleeping at Jack's place."

"We don't lead a platonic relationship, if that's what you're implying." Though it came close… I wasn't even sure why. Maybe I was scared of another miscarriage, maybe we just both worked too much. I honestly couldn't say.

"Alright," Sam's answer came a little too ready, was a little too understanding.

"Why'd you ask?"

"Just curious."

"Oh, come on, Sam. As if there isn't an ulterior motive to everything you do," I teased. "Just so you know; it's not because I or Jack have a dysfunction of any kind."

"I never implied that."

"Not yet, anyways," I huffed smilingly. Truth be told, I didn't know why people obsessed about sex so much. In my experience, it wasn't so awesome as to be worth the hassle; sex therapy, Viagra, operations and whatnot... totally over-estimated if you ask me. But maybe I was just different.

Sure, sex was fun. I just never understood why some people base their relationship on it.

"Sam, I don't mean to pry… but have you tried contacting Dean?"

"No. He's better off without me."

"You sure about that?"

"Definitely."

I sighed. Apparently, I wasn't the only one with a messed up family. With the slight difference that Sam and Dean obviously seemed to care about each other, that much I had been able to read out from what little Sam had told me… my brother and I would have liked nothing better to tear each other to shreds every time simply the other's name was mentioned. That's why my parents had always made sure neither of us had a weapon when we were alone together.

I shook my head to ban the past from my thoughts.

"Correct me when I'm wrong here, but shouldn't you do something festive the night before your wedding?"

"What, Italian food and Californian red wine not festive enough for you? I even lit a candle."

Sam chuckled. "You're the most unusual girl I've ever met."

"Damn straight," I grinned, "Jokes aside, I would have a girls' night out if it weren't for the fact that I have exactly zero friendships with girls. Well, girls that live close-by, anyways."

"You're still friends with… what were their names… Jane and Ellie?"

"You remembered, I'm impressed," I rose my glass to him, "Yeah, we're still friends. It just wasn't the same after Jess was gone… our quartet wasn't complete, and we couldn't handle it all too well. We found other friends, friends we could spend time with without painfully bringing back memories, you know."

Sam nodded. "That's when you met Jack?"

"Yes," I twirled my engagement ring around my finger smilingly, "He took care of me when I ended up dead-drunk in some shady bar again…"

Sam frowned disapprovingly.

"It wasn't easy, Sam, okay? The fact that you just ran off didn't exactly help."

He opened his mouth to shoot back when I already continued talking, not even giving him a chance of explaining: "I don't blame you, Sam, I just expect you to do the same for me."

"Of course. Sorry. I didn't mean to judge you… it's just that I don't like the idea of you sitting helplessly in some pub."

"I wasn't helpless. Just drunk."

"Right."

"Let's just talk about something else. I'm thinking about getting a cat."

I could literally see the thought rattling in Sam's mind: Now she'd gone completely insane.

"That was just to get your mind off my drunken adventures. Did it work?"

"Completely."

"Good. Now I can tell you that the last thing on my mind is getting a cat."

"I've said it before and I'll say it again: You are one strange girl."

"You're not exactly normal, either."

"Let's just call it a tie," Sam finished his dinner. "So, you ready for tomorrow?"

"Good question," I sighed, "I mean, I'm unbelievably happy that I'm going to marry Jack, I just don't know whether I won't pass out on the way up the aisle."

Sam chuckled, "I'm sure you'll do just fine. You don't strike me as the passing out type."

'True, oh, so true,' I thought and emptied my glass. "If I am, though, will you be there to catch me?"

"You want me to come tomorrow?" Sam frowned disbelievingly.

"Of course I do! Why wouldn't I?"

"Because I didn't quite get the sense that Jack's all too happy about my presence."

"So? It's my wedding, too, and I want you to be there."

Sam's expression was unmoved. "Okay. I'll catch you."

I smiled happily and got up to clear the table. "We still have season 5 of NCIS to watch. Go get everything ready, I'll finish up here."

Sam disappeared into the living room. I put the plates into the dishwasher, stored the pots away and was just straightening up again to reach for the towel to clean the counter when I was whirled around and felt Sam's lips on mine.

I couldn't keep a languid sigh from escaping my throat, and I gave in to his tongue's fierce attacks and let him in.

Then I realized what I was doing.

I half-heartedly pressed my hands against his chest to push him away (I was all too aware that he wouldn't have budged even if I had used my full strength), but that didn't impress Sam in the least. If anything, it turned him on even more. He lifted me up onto the kitchen counter and pressed my body against the cupboards while pulling me close to him at the same time. Sam was everywhere, all I could feel, see, smell and taste was Sam, and I didn't mind.

I felt a fire being lit in me like I had never felt it. It was an overwhelming force of desire, lust and passion, all mixed together to make me completely forget where I was, what I was doing.

My hands worked with lightening speed to unbutton Sam's shirt. I pushed it down his arms, then immediately set to pull the other shirt underneath it over his head. I moaned in pleasure as I felt his bare chest weighing on me. I ran my hands over his flawless back, felt his muscles ripple under my fingertips.

Non-too-gently, Sam ripped my blouse open and practically tore my skirt from my waist and down my legs. I was so immersed in our passionate, lip-bruising kiss that I didn't even hear our clothes hit the marble floor.

I buried a hand in his hair and pulled him closer; I wanted to feel him even closer on me, his lips on mine, his torso trapping me between him and the wall… not a breath would have fit between us, but that wasn't close enough for me. Hot waves of lust surged through my whole body, centred somewhere in my middle and made me ache for his touch. No, his touch wouldn't be enough, I needed him deep inside of me.

Sam unsnapped my bra with skilled hands and pushed it down my shoulders. I flung it away impatiently and drew him to me again. That second it had taken for our bodies to separate in order to get that piece of clothing off of me was one second too long.

Sam lifted me from the counter, buried one hand in my hair as his other arm supported me. His lips trailed down my jaw to my neck, to my breasts. My legs were locked around his waist, and I used my free hand, the one not around his neck, to unbuckle his belt and push his jeans down. It hit the floor the second his lips closed around my nipple.

I let out an indiscernible sound and went rigid in his arms, clawing my nails into his back. "Enough foreplay already," I panted. The heat in my body was unbearable.

Sam's growled throaty reply to that was: "Table or bed?"

"Table," I pressed out. The bed was too far away.

Sam didn't shilly-shally, turned around and pushed me down onto said table. I faintly perceived the candlesticks tumbling to the floor with a loud clonk, but it didn't reach my brain.

With a quick, ruthless movement Sam pulled my panties from my body. I rather felt than saw him do the same with his boxers, then I couldn't even have told you my name anymore; the only thing reeling in my mind was the other-worldly pleasure clashing with raw, animalistic lust as Sam finally, after what felt an eternity, entered me with a powerful thrust.

My head fell back, exposing my neck to Sam's feverous kisses and the occasional bite, and I wouldn't have been able to form a coherent sentence if my life depended on it.

"Sam…oh, God, Sam."

His thrusts came faster, deeper and more forceful. I've never had a man take me like that before, which I greatly regretted. It defied description. I moaned again, I couldn't have stopped myself even if I'd wanted to. Locking my legs behind his back, I drew Sam even closer, passionately kissing him as I felt an orgasm of unknown extent build up within me.

I wasn't disappointed.

I broke our kiss as to scream out my pleasure, and my muscles contracted uncontrollably. With a final thrust, we both came.

For beautifully long seconds, my world only knew pleasure, and it wouldn't have surprised me if someone had told me that I was in heaven.

Sam pulled out of me and gently lifted me into his arms again. Kissing me while walking, he blindly made his way to my bedroom, kicking the door closed behind us.

The cool silken sheets were an unwelcome contrast to Sam's hot, sweating body, but a welcome contrast to the hard kitchen table.

"Time to give the bed some attention now," he murmured into my ear before his lips kissed the soft spot just underneath.

"Wherever you want it."

"Even an elevator?"

"Yes, even there." I buried my hands in his hair, took his face into my hands and kissed him.

We went a little slower this time, more gently now that our primal lust had been satisfied. It didn't change anything about the fact that having sex with Sam finally taught me why people thought it so important.

I cuddled into Sam's arms, resting my head against his chest as he put an arm around me. I kissed his perfect chest and slowly ran a hand over it, eventually draping my arm over his waist and burying myself even deeper into his embrace. Sam trailed his fingers lightly from my ribs to my waist, in ever recurring circles. I could have purred from pleasure.

We didn't exchange one word. It was a content silence, there was no need to break it with unnecessary words.

My last thought before I fell asleep was how good it felt falling asleep in Sam's arms.

My first thought when I woke up was how good it felt waking up in Sam's arms.

Then realization washed over me like a bucket of ice-cold water; today was my wedding. I had betrayed my fiancée in the night before our wedding, and the day I would say 'I do' to Jack I woke up beside Sam. I jolted up, pressing a sheet to my naked body. My heart rate sped up, I felt panic catching in my throat. I was sure everybody would see what I had done, as if it had been branded onto my forehead. The ring on my finger felt unbelievably heavy, and it wouldn't have surprised me had it burnt my skin.

A big, strong hand ran slowly over my back. "Morning."

Despite the situation I was in, I had to smile as I turned my head and looked at Sam. For the first time in these three weeks, he seemed to have lost that cold edge in his eyes. I leaned down and kissed his lips, gently cupping his face in my hand as I did so.

"I call first shots for the shower," I murmured into his ear, placed a kiss on his cheek and got up.

Sam watched me gather my clothes contently smiling. The sight of him in my bed, the covers carelessly draped over him, leaving his body bare upwards from the groin, almost made me jump right back beside him. I didn't know what this attraction was… this enticing pull he exerted on me. Little did I know then that I was risking far more than just my engagement by my entanglement with Sam.

"Rachel."

I turned to look at him with my eyebrows raised expectantly. "Yes?"

He beckoned me to him, which I readily did. I sat down on the edge of the bed beside him. Sam pulled my head down to kiss me. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Everything."

"You're not saying goodbye, are you?" I felt dread catch in my throat.

"No. Besides… you should know that even if I disappear, it probably won't be forever," he smirked.

"Just don't be another six years. And say goodbye properly when you decide to leave."

Sam kissed me again. "Will do. Now, you take your shower and get ready for your big day."

Immediately, the guilt was back.

"You are still going to marry Jack, right?" Sam frowned, apparently he'd seen what was going on inside of me.

"Yes," I replied automatically. I couldn't think, so I switched to autopilot.

When I got back out of the shower, Sam was nowhere to be seen. I was just beginning to freak out and think he had indeed left when I found the note on the kitchen table (which brought back memories… I didn't think I could eat at this table anymore. Especially not with Jack.).

_Rachel,_

_I just got a call from a friend, I need to go see him._

_I'll be back in time to catch you._

_Sam_

Ominous, but okay, that was nothing new.

Not thinking about it any further, I prepared breakfast for myself. I was just sipping my second cup of coffee and flipping through the newspaper when my phone rang. Preparing myself for it being Jack, I picked up: "Yes, Rachel Black here."

"Ms Black, San Francisco police department."

"Oh, hello?"

"Ms Black, you are Jack Kilmer's fiancée?"

I felt my heart drop to the floor. No, not Jack, please don't… "Yes," I croaked out.

"Your fiancée has been involved in a car crash this morning…"

Everything was drowned out, it was as if my world just fell to pieces right in front of me, but I couldn't lift a finger to glue it back together.

I had romped in bed with Sam, cheating on my fiancé, when Jack had died.

But that wasn't even the worst.

"Ms Black? Are you still there?"

"Yes," I managed to choke out through the sobs caught in my throat.

"I am so sorry for asking, but we need you to identify the body. Or is there anybody else?"

"Jack's brother… but it's okay. I'll do it. I'll, um, be there in half an hour."

"I am very sorry for your loss, Ms Black."

I just nodded, not caring the woman at the other end wouldn't be able to see that, and hung up. Feeling as if caught in a trance and unable to wake up, I got dressed and got into my car, heard the engine roar to life, saw the gate roll open...

I hadn't wondered about other people's stories for a long time. Now I began asking myself whether the bitter-looking woman who carried her baby on her arms had maybe just lost a sister, or whether the elderly man who was just crossing the street would be coming home and a meal cooked from his wife of fifty years was waiting for him.

It was easier to think about strangers' lives than my own.

At the next red light, I rummaged through my hastily packed handbag for my phone and tried reaching Sam. I had never been in such dire need of a strong shoulder to lean on as now. I knew he wasn't the best person to comfort me, but he was the only one I had.

Because Jack was dead.

The merciful haze of numbness was beginning to lift, revealing the cruel reality to me. Like lifting a curtain – showing me what was in store for me. Pain, a lot of pain.

I couldn't reach Sam, and that fact alone was enough to bring tears to my eyes. I gathered myself before I entered the imposing brick building housing the SF police department.

'Please, Sam… just pick up. I really need you now,' I wasn't the praying type, but I was willing to abandon my atheism if only Sam would pick up.

Sadly, I was proven right not to believe in God.

"Ms Black?"

Automatically, I looked at the lean woman approaching me who had addressed me. "Yes."

"I'm Officer Sarah Landon. We spoke on the phone."

"Right," I shook her hand.

"Are you sure you want to identify your fiancé's body? We could call his family…"

"No. They shouldn't have to go through that. I'll do it." God knew I had seen enough bodies in my lifetime.

The brunette nodded slowly and led the way downstairs to what was labelled 'morgue'. It was the first time that I entered the anti-septic smelling rooms not dressed as an FBI agent.

It was an experience that I could have gladly done without.

***

Sarah Landon had seen many grieving relatives in her time as a police officer, but none of them had been quite like Rachel Black.

Sarah had witnessed nervous breakdowns, aggressive outbursts and cold numbness – but Rachel Black didn't fit either. She was normal. Calm. Reserved at best. Nothing made her stand out as somebody who had just lost the man she loved.

"Doctor Harrods? Ms Black is here," Sarah called out softly.

Seconds later a woman in her early sixties came out of her office. With a practiced sweep of her eyes, she took in the grieving fiancé's appearance.

'Good, this one doesn't look like she'd make a tearful scene,' Katie Harrods thought matter-of-factly. Thirty years in this business had rid her of most her empathy.

"Ms Black," she acknowledged the young woman with a nod of her head.

Rachel nodded her head in return, she didn't particularly feel like exchanging any extra words.

The police officer turned around to face the other young woman, her hand was on the handle to open the door and pull out the metal stretcher with Jack Kilmer's dead body. "Ms Black, you should be aware that he was greatly injured in the crash…"

"It's okay," Rachel replied curtly. She doubted it could be any worse than the things she had already seen.

Sarah sighed and pulled the stretcher out.

Rachel took a sharp intake of air, but steadied her breathing quickly. The black devouring hole inside of her got bigger and bigger, and the air felt too thick to breathe… She suppressed the urge to take out her phone and try to reach Sam again.

'I need to hear his voice, or I swear I'll go insane…'

Rachel forced herself to look at the disfigured, shredded body in front of her that had once been her fiancée. "Was…" She took a deep breath, "Was there anything…abnormal about his death?"

Deep down, Rachel had never stopped fearing that the monsters of her past would one day come back to haunt her. Until this day, she hadn't had reason to believe that they did. Nerves flittering like leaves in the wind, Rachel waited for the doctor's reply.

Katie Harrods flicked through the notes on her chart. "No. He died of extreme blood loss and failure of several organs."

Rachel nodded numbly. "Thank you, doctor." With that, she turned and left, her heart heavy with grief but also relief; relief because her past hadn't caught up with her. Jack's death didn't have anything to do with the past she never told him about.

Katie looked after Rachel until the door swung close behind her, then she positioned her glasses on the ridge of her nose and added the concluding sentence to her autopsy report: 'Remains of sulphur over the whole body, as to be expected due to the fire caused in the crash.'

***

I didn't know what was worse.

Being trapped in a tiny, confining room, or reality.

I think being exposed to my claustrophobia would be a sweet cakewalk compared to this unimaginable pain ripping a hole into my heart.

My movements came automatically, like a well reversed scene of a movie: Step for step, key into the hole, turn, step inside. Close door. Take off coat. Drop bag.

"Sam?"

Nothing, just silence.

'Where are you when I need you most?'

The answer to my question came in form of a piece of paper on the table; Gone.

_Rachel, _

_I can never be able to thank you enough for what you have done for me.__ I can't stay. Things have gotten more complicated. _

_I'm sorry. More than I can say. _

_Sam _

That was the drop that finally made the barrel flow over. I broke down on the kitchen floor and cried so hard my lungs ached from the sobs, my muscles cramped and I couldn't breathe properly.

Why? Why did he leave, why now?

How could it be that a fairy tale castle that had taken years to build could be torn down in just a few hours?

Another thing I had to learn in that hardest time of my life: Fate isn't satisfied when you're on the ground broken. It has to kick you until you're absolutely dead, or at least so full of despair that you feel as if you were.


	4. Pestering Past

_One year later_

I woke up with a monstrous headache. Which figured, considering that it had been a monster who gave me that beat to the head. For ten years I had left them alone and they had left me alone. Until now. Either it was Friday the 13th, and I was just unlucky, or there was more to it.

I refused believing that my past had had a change of heart and decided to haunt me anyhow, so I made myself believe that I was just a random victim. Then again, vampires don't normally take victims – they just kill.

'Awesome. Just great.'

I opened my eyes and found myself tied to a pillar in a place that looked like an abandoned old train station. A dark, creepy and cold abandoned train station.

"What do you want with me?" I called out to nobody in particular.

"Throw you into the game," A voice rasped directly into my ear.

I jumped and tried to wrench away, which, of course, was not quite as successful as it would have been had I not been tied up.

"You're a scrumptious one."

Great. Not only had I been kidnapped by an insane vampire, but by a _perverted_ insane vampire.

Must be the deluxe edition of Friday the 13th.

Finally the vampire stepped into the ever so dim light, and I could make out his rough features. The most prominent one being his extended fangs.

"Why? What do you mean by 'throwing me into the game'?"

The vampire looked me up and down slowly, as if he could read the answer on my skin. While waiting for him to either answer or attack me, I fiddled with the rope around my wrists. It's been ten years since I had last hunted, but it came to me surprisingly easy, so it took me only a few minutes to be free. I remained seated, though – no need to let the vampire know about my unknown advantage. My eyes searched the place for a suitable weapon.

"It's not so much your hunter's past that makes you interesting," the vampire finally spoke, "but rather your connection with the Winchesters."

I huffed, "You ought to get your sources straight, man. The Winchesters can bite me ten ways from Sunday."

_Sam _Winchester, anyways.

Besides, what did a vampire want with the Winchester brothers, anyways?

"Maybe," The vampire shrugged, unimpressed. "I know that it's been a while since you've last seen Sam Winchester, and even longer that you've seen your family…"

"What the hell has my family got to do with this?" Anger surged up in me, white, hot and blinding, along with raging hatred. My feelings for Sam were friendly compared to what I felt towards my family.

The vampire smiled, his eyes glowing dangerously and maliciously as he did so. "Ah, you really do hate them, don't you?"

I didn't answer. I averted my eyes and finally found what I'd been looking for: a blade, hidden under rocks and pebbles somewhere in the dark. Seems I wasn't the first hunter to have the pleasure of being here.

"I can hear your heart beat furiously against your chest. It's not fear, you haven't shown any sign of that ever since we brought you here… but it's your hatred for your family."

"Where am I, on Freud's couch? Get to the point."

"Quite a belligerent girl you are."

"And while you're explaining to me why you brought me here, why not enlighten me on how you know Sam Winchester?"

"Oh, you didn't know?"

"Know what, bloodsucker?" I spat. I was so done with his arrogant games. He had one more chance of explaining, then I'd jump for the blade.

"The Sammy Winchester you know, or at least, believed to know is nothing but a hunter. Quite a dark history, too."

My lips parted in surprise. Sam, a hunter? No way.

On the other hand… it fit. It fit more than it should.

I decided I could worry about all of that later, once I got out of here alive and preferably in one piece, too. I lunged for the weapon, the same second the vampire jumped forwards and landed on top of me. I kicked him off of me, feeling familiar strength ripple through my muscles. I got up, blade swinging in my hand.

A sense of power sweetly surged through my body. It was exactly this dangerous thrill that got me to stop hunting in the first place; it was too easy to fall prey to it. I was a stranger to empathy and sympathy the second I held a weapon in my hand.

The vampire's head fell to the floor with a muffled thud.

I pended somewhere between dead calm and disgusted excitement.

Noise from somewhere near interrupted my train of thought, and I clenched my fist around the blade's handle, despite having loved nothing better but to fling it away as far as possible.

Another vampire jumped right in front of me, barely giving me enough time to realize his presence. I hit the ground the same second steps echoed through the huge hall and people appeared in the doorway to my left.

"Rachel!"

Good, Sam was next on my list of who to behead.

The vampire hissed, exposing his eewy fangs. I mean, seriously, _nasty_. I reached for the weapon, closed my fingers around it and beheaded the vampire with a practised sweep of the blade. I raised a hand to wipe the blood from my cheek as I sat up.

Sam's tall figure appeared next to me. I let him pull me up and inspect the scratches on my face.

"You okay?"

"Peachy, Sam, just peachy," I hissed, then did something rather untypical of me: I slapped him. "What the hell, Sam?"

"Guess I deserved that," he dryly stated.

"Oh, Sam, believe me, if you got what you _really _deserved, you wouldn't get out of here alive."

"Rachel…"

"Save it," I spat and pushed him away from me. "I'm out of here. Have a nice life."

I stopped in my tracks when I found the exit blocked by three other men. One older guy, and two that looked to be somewhere in their thirties.

"Let me guess, you're Dean," I said looking at the handsome hunk.

"I am. How'd you…?"

"Same eyes," I shrugged with a nod in Sam's direction. "Now excuse me, I've got a life to live, and it ain't in some shady rundown factory building or whatever the hell this is."

Dean's lips moved in a way that could almost be interpreted as a smile.

I was just about to continue my way out before they could ask any questions, or before I would be tempted to look at Sam again, when a horribly cold voice sounded from the gallery. "You know, it's funny."

All five of us looked up and saw a black man leaning on the railing contemplatively. His stare was directed at me.

"What's funny?" Dean demanded.

"Most people's first instinct when they find out they're confronting a vampire would be reaching for a stake. Or a cross, maybe…" He trailed his long fingernails over the marble stone as he ambled along the gallery. Abruptly, he stopped and looked at me with a knowing smile. "But not you. The way you beheaded those two was almost…_professional_."

I rather felt than saw Sam's head snap around and his eyes on me, almost burning my skin in their glaring intensity.

"Rachel…"

Even if I had had the intention of explaining myself, I wouldn't have gotten the chance to, as the vampire suddenly disappeared.

And my family appeared in his place.

"Where'd he go?" My father roared.

I closed my eyes.

This was so much worse than any Friday 13th could have been. This, I had to realize, wasn't random chance… there was a nasty plan behind everything happening tonight. I just didn't know what.

"What the hell's going on with vamps lately? They shouldn't have this kind of mojo." That was my dearest brother, Hayden. Oh, how I wanted to slit his throat.

"What the…" Dean started, and exchanged a glance with Sam, who shrugged barely noticeable and looked at the old man with them.

My family hadn't noticed us yet, a status I would have liked to preserve.

Naturally, on days like these, you don't get lucky all of a sudden.

My mother noticed me first. Old wounds were ripped open as her ice-cold stare shot through me with more force than a bullet could have; all the times she bossed me around, all the times she looked at me as if I were a disgrace.

"I'm out of here," I pressed out and turned towards the door.

"Rachel Serena Black, you don't take another step."

Defiantly, I took exactly two more steps before I turned around and glared at my mother standing up there on the gallery. "Wow, you remember my name, I'm impressed. Thought you had long since scratched me from your memory."

"You know them?" Sam looked at me, and when I looked back at him, I felt how my raging fury towards him ceased ever so slightly. God knew why.

"Sadly, yes, I do."

"Wait a minute…" The older man narrowed his eyes as he inspected my family, and I feared the recognition lightening up his face as my father, mother, brother and sister came to stand opposite from us.

The grand finale of a soap opera couldn't have been worse than this situation.

"Well, sis, just when I thought you couldn't stoop any lower," Karen chuckled, "You hook up with the Winchester Campbells. Then again, you always were a worthless slut."

"You should know."

"Ouch, Rachel. Is that the way to greet your sister after ten long years?"

"Be glad I don't break your neck instead."

"As if you could."

"Don't make me demonstrate that I can indeed."

"Whoa, whoa, ladies." Hayden held up his hands, chuckling. "Can't you put your differences aside for just a moment?"

I huffed and shook my head in disbelief. Ten years, and nothing had changed.

"Nobody's talking to you, Hayden, so shut the hell up," I snapped.

Before my brother could reply, the old man growled and glared at my father: "Ewan Black. What the hell are you doing here?"

Awesome, he did know him. Peachy.

"Samuel Campbell. Thought you had graced us with your departure long ago."

I ran a hand over my face. Disaster seemed like too nice a word for what was in store for me.

"Rachel, what the _hell's _going on here?" Sam hissed under his breath as his grandfather, as I figured, and my father exchanged insults and whatnot.

"What do you think?" I snapped back.

"Wait. Black as in…'Red Creek' Black?" Dean asked quietly.

"Yes."

"Great." Dean replied, and recognition finally found its way onto Sam's face, too.

"You're telling me. I didn't pick that family."

"Yeah, I figured. You seem okay a person."

I let out a humourless chuckle. "Thanks. That might be the closest I ever got to a compliment from a hunter."

I considered sneaking from the room, but my father's booming voice interrupted that plan. "Rachel, you step away from that family right now."

"Or what? You'll shoot me?"

"Daughter, I have tried so hard to be patient with you…"

"Oh, you have? Gee, I must have been sick that day. Because all I can recall is you being my merciless drill sergeant, who didn't give a damn about me."

"Playing normal life is over, Rachel. Time to get back to your family." My mother intervened.

"As far as I'm concerned, I don't have family."

My mother took a deep breath, an obvious attempt to keep herself from snapping at me like she had all her life. "This is bigger than your selfish desire to lead a normal life, Rachel. They," she nodded in the rough direction of Sam, Dean and Samuel, "have brought the end upon all of us."

"I've got no idea what you mean by that, and frankly, I don't care. You stay the hell out of my life."

My darling sister decided that she hadn't made her high opinion of me clear enough yet. "You're the most selfish, arrogant and oblivious person to have ever walked this planet, you know that?"

"Because you're such a selfless sweetheart," I snapped.

"We're at war, Rachel, and we need all hands on deck! So get over your damn self and get back in."

"No," I said simply.

"So, what, you'd rather stay with them? Do you have any idea of what they've been doing lately, especially Sammy here?" Karen raised her eyebrows as if she were the omniscient queen of the world.

Honestly, I didn't know and I was afraid to. But I as sure as hell wouldn't let my family know that. I had my priorities straight; My disappointment, hurt and anger towards Sam for leaving didn't nearly outweigh my devouring hatred towards my family.

The fact that Sam remained completely motionless while Dean shifted uneasily told me that there was way too much truth to my sister's words than I would have liked.

"I swore I was done hunting, and I am. Since when am I needed, anyways? All my life you've spent telling me how useless I was."

"This is different, Rachel-"

"Save it. I'm done and that's it. So… Bite me, bitch."

"I'll leave that to him, thanks," she gave a nod towards Sam. "Tell me something, sis, did Jack know what a deceiving whore you are?"

I had reached my limit of self-control. I lunged at my sister, jumped at her like a fury, and I would have scratched her eyes out had Sam let me. I felt his arms snake around my waist, holding me back, and no matter how much I fought him, he wouldn't let me go.

I was damn near to scratching his eyes out instead.

"Rachel. Rachel! She's not worth it." He murmured.

"Are you?" I asked breath- and emotionlessly. I stopped struggling and pushed him away from me again.

Eyes cold as steel, I looked at my family. Then I slowly turned towards the exit.

"Rachel. If you walk out that door, it will be as if you were never part of this family, you hear me?"

"How's that any different to how it's been my whole life?" I asked bitterly, not even bothering to look at them anymore.

"Something big is going down, and these Winchesters are part of it, and it ain't good. You'd really rather choose the brothers who broke the world than your own blood?"

"Yes," I didn't find the strength in me to say more.

"You can't leave your past behind, Rachel. And if you leave now, you'll stand alone."

"I've always stood alone. All my life. I know how to handle it, thanks."

The silence following my words as I left the room couldn't have been louder than a screaming fit of my mother.

"Wow, a Black who has a backbone. There I always thought you were a spineless breed." I couldn't see Samuel Campbell's face, but the gleeful smirk was evident enough in his voice.

"I'll take her home," Sam's low voice carried to me through the empty hallway of the deserted building.

I didn't want to eavesdrop; then again, I believed it to be my fair right to listen in on them.

"You don't go near my daughter ever again!"

"I didn't quite get the sense that you're worthy of having a say in her life," the coldness in Sam's voice chilled me to my very bone, though what he had said made me somewhat warm inside. Was he actually standing up for me?

If he thought that would make up for him taking off without a word, though, he was wrong.

I started walking briskly when I heard steps nearing – I didn't want to make the obvious impression of having eavesdropped. Sam caught up to me quickly, and we left the building in silence. I had sworn myself that I would never forgive him, but I couldn't deny that undeniable slightly good feeling of having him close.

"Get in. I'm taking you home."

"Who says I want you to?"

Sam let out an exasperated sigh. "Rachel, I know I messed up. I know I hurt you."

"I never said you hurt me. I am damn pissed, but not hurt. Huge difference."

"Fine." I had the sneaky feeling Sam just said that to shut me up, not because he meant it. "Either way, I am sorry that I just left you."

"Why did you, then? Damn it, Sam, I needed you then, more than I ever needed anyone, and you fucking bailed on me!"

"I figured you would manage your wedding without me."

I huffed humourlessly. "You mean to tell me you don't know? You think I needed you to hold my hand on my way up to the aisle? That _that's_ the reason why I called your number for weeks, even when the same monotone voice told me over and over again that this number has been disconnected?"

Sam had the grace to look at least a little ashamed – but it lacked a certain sincerity. "Rachel… if it's not that, then what was it?"

I pressed my lips together and ran a hand through my hair. "Wow. You really have no clue."

"Rachel, would you stop the quiz show and just tell me?"

I whirled around and glared at him. "Do I really need a reason to be pissed beyond bounds that you ran off without another word other than I was disappointed, and hurt when you weren't there when I needed you? For the second time, might I add?"

"Ral, look…"

"No. Just, no." I shook my head and swallowed down the traitorous lump in my throat. After a deep breath, I quietly said: "The day you left… Jack died. I came back from the morgue when I found your note. Need I really say more?"

I could hear Sam's sharp intake of breath. "Rachel, I'm sorry… I didn't know."

"Would it have changed anything if you had?" I asked bitterly.

Sam didn't answer. We looked at each other for a minute in silence, and we might have stood like that for hours if Dean, Samuel and the other guy hadn't returned then.

"Wow, family like that, I'm surprised you're still sane," Dean remarked.

"I wouldn't be too sure about that part," I sighed. "Anyways, just for the record; whatever beef you might have with my so-called family – don't project it on me. As far as I'm concerned, they're strangers and I don't ever want to see them again."

"I'm not blaming you," Dean looked at me intensively, and I felt that I could trust him. He had something Sam lacked… I just couldn't put my finger on what it was. "Come on, we'll take you home."

"'We'?" I frowned.

"After seeing you with a sharp object in your hand, and considering Sam and you don't exactly seem to be on the best of terms, I think Switzerland ought to ride in the car with Germany and France to prevent a bloody massacre."

I had to smile despite all the crap that went down tonight. "I didn't know that there's a sensible version of Winchesters, too."

Dean grinned, "You ain't half-bad, you know that? I'm starting to like you."

"Likewise." I got in back, behind the passenger seat, which was a mistake, as it gave Sam the possibility to look at me sideways. He watched Samuel and the other dude – I really ought to get his name – take off in the truck, then rolled out onto the street and took off into the opposite direction.

Awkward silence filled the car.

"Since when?"

"Since when, what?"

"Since when have you been hunting?" Sam shot me a quick, sharp look before turning his eyes back on the street.

I could pick another fight now, but I just didn't have the strength for it left. It would be easier to simply answer. "Since I was four years old." I trailed my fingertip over the steamed up window, drawing meaningless patterns.

I sighed and continued, knowing that it wouldn't satisfy him: "An especially violent shtriga took my sister. My parents couldn't take it… she was their golden girl. The oldest of us, the best of us… they never said it out loud, but I know they blame me for Lucy's death."

"Why would they blame you?" Sam shot the next question at me the second I had finished.

"Sam…" I sighed tiredly, "I'll answer your questions, but don't make it sound like a damn interrogation. In case you forgot; I'm not the only one who kept secrets. And if Karen, for the first time ever, was right, you have even more than I do. Quid pro quo. I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

Sam narrowed his eyes.

I crossed my arms before my chest and waited. I was surprisingly good at that.

Dean let out a chuckle.

"What?" Sam and I snapped in unison.

We shot each other an irritated look.

"It's just that…"

"Dean. What?" Sam growled.

"Seems like you finally found your match. This ought to be an entertaining ride," Dean leaned back with a smug smile on his face, "I hope you checked her for weapons before you let her get in behind us."

Sam rolled his eyes.

"Where are we, anyways? And how'd you find that vampire nest?" I decided to get the attention off Sam's and my history, for now.

"We're in Arizona, and we got a lead on the Alpha vamp, and it lead straight to that warehouse."

"Uh-huh. I haven't been hunting in a long time, so bear with me… what the hell's an Alpha vamp?"

Sam sighed, "Very long story."

"Well, I daresay we've got the time, seeing as we're stuck in a car for at least two or three hours."

"First things first."

"That is first thing."

"Not for me."

"Well, tough, it's your turn to spill some."

Sam glared at me.

"Eyes on the street," I remarked dryly.

"Fine. What about a deal. You tell your whole story, I'll tell mine."

I pondered for a moment. "Fine. But, fair warning: You try take off before I got an _honest_ answer to my _every_ question, I'll tie you up and force you to tell me everything at gunpoint."

"Does it bother you at all how easily I believe you that you would really do that?"

"Not really, no."

"So we got a deal?"

I took a deep breath. "Yeah."

"Okay, shoot."

"He doesn't mean that literally," Dean quickly threw in.

I had to smile despite myself. "Fine, what do you want to know?"

"You could start with how your whole family got into hunting and why you hate them so much."

"You met them, you should know why I wish I could erase my blood relation to them."

"Are you going to keep that snappy attitude up forever? Because it's not gonna get us very far."

"One: Yes, I do intend letting you know every second of my existence that I will never forgive you for bailing on me, and two: for the sake of the productiveness of this conversation, I will put my not so friendly feelings for you aside just long enough to deliver my CV."

Dean laughed quietly to himself while Sam was burning holes into the windshield with his fiery glare that was probably intended for me.

"Anyways," I took a calming breath and prepared to tell the truth about my life, for the first time ever. It would be the first time I would tell no lies. Well, I supposed that leaving one tiny fact out didn't count as lying, especially considering that it didn't concern my hunting history.

"After my sister died, my parents got obsessed with finding out what killed her, and so they got into the hunters' circles… and they dragged my siblings and me into it. I was just four, Karen was seven and Hayden nine years old. My parents were so blinded by their hunger for revenge, their rage and grief that they never saw what they were doing to us. Honestly, my siblings didn't help much – they never questioned anything my parents told them. My parents glorified Lucy as if she had been perfection impersonated, and made us other three strive for that same perfection that we could never fulfill because it was nothing but an illusion. Karen came close enough, it seemed, as my parents never complained about her, and my brother, well, he was perfect anyways, the only son. If it hadn't been for their wayward youngest daughter, I'm sure my parents would have been content with their perfect family."

"Well, you are a rather challenging person."

"I thought we had agreed on laying down our weapons for the honesty talks?"

"I never said it was a bad thing."

I frowned. "Whatever that means. Well, anyhow. I'll spare you the charming details of the life I led for thirteen years – let's just leave it at the fact it wasn't good. The day my parents had that shtriga tracked down and killed, they should have gone back to our old lives… but they didn't. They kept at it mercilessly, without regards to losses."

"Red Creek."

I sighed. What had happened at Red Creek had made its way through the grapevine, along hunters, anyways. "Yeah. I mean, I had come to hate hunting with them for a long time, but the day that thing at Red Creek went down tipped the scale for good. That night I told them to stick it where the sun don't shine and left. Never picked up a weapon since that day… until now." I bit my lips and thought back to that godforsaken night in the sleepy town of Red Creek.

My family had taken a case that turned out to not be witchcraft, but an extremely powerful and violent shtriga that sucked the life essence out of children in a matter of minutes. In order to catch the monster, my family hadn't shied back at using kids as bait… not caring that three children died because they refused to strike before the 'time was right'.

The worst thing was that my family hadn't cared.

'Everybody has sacrifices to make, Rachel. We already made ours. Now it's their turn,' my mother had said coldly when I yelled at them that they had let those children walk into death not even trying to help them.

'And we got the bitch. Job done,' my father had chimed in.

'You don't see it, do you?' I had asked incredulously. 'You are so consumed by revenge that you can't even differ between right and wrong. And I know why.'

'Oh, yeah? Why's that, Rachel?'

'You might say that it's our job hunting things, but you forgot about the 'saving people' part long time ago. The real reason why you're so obsessed with killing monsters is because you can't accept that fact that you've failed protecting your own children.'

That had been the first time my father struck me. It would be the last time, too, because I had packed my stuff and left. Got a scholarship, went to Stanford and finally lived the normal life I wanted. Until now…

I shook my head and returned to the present. "They never saw what it was doing to their children… well, to me, anyways."

"So you really made the break and got out," Dean commented quietly.

"I thought I did. Looking around me now… I can't say that I've succeeded in the long term."

"Don't worry, we'll be out your life before you know it."

"Oh, yeah, I know how that goes, thanks to your brother," I replied, piqued.

"How long are you going to hold that over me?"

"Hm, let's see…Somewhere between forever and until the end of my days."

"Wow, you two really have some unresolved issues." Dean shook his head.

"You've got no idea," I mumbled.

Dean looked at me, then at Sam. "So, either of you want to tell me what exactly happened or do I have to assume the worst?"

"Define 'worst'," I grumbled.

"Well, all I know so far is that Sam lived with you for three weeks, then left when he found out about our grandfather being alive. I know you've gone to college together and you were best friends with Jessica, and that you were engaged to a guy named Jack. So far, so good. Except for the fact you two are both hunters and didn't realize it, that is a little disturbing and makes me seriously doubt your receptive skills and honesty qualities.

But considering you're the daughter of Ewan Black, I don't really think anything shocks me anymore. Unless I had to find out you two ended up in bed together, because that would indeed put the crown on it." Dean let out a little laugh, as if that thought was completely abstract.

Silence.

"You didn't." I wasn't sure if Dean could have looked more shocked if we'd told him the devil was on the lose.

Sam hunched his shoulders, I crossed my arms before my chest and sank deeper into the backseat defiantly.

"Awww, man, come on," Dean looked not too happily at his brother, then at me and back at Sam. "Seriously?"

Neither Sam nor I said anything still.

"I mean, after that thing with Ruby, I'd come to terms with something being wrong with you, but an engaged woman, Sam, _seriously_?"

"Thanks for pointing that out so clearly," I stated dryly. As if my guilt wasn't overwhelming enough already. "And who's Ruby?"

"Thanks, Dean."

"Well, she deserves the whole truth, and if you don't tell her, I will."

Seemed like their brotherly relationship wasn't living its best days, judging from the tension between them. I wondered why.

"Turn left there," I interrupted the glaring contest between the brothers.

"What? Your apartment's that way."

"My old apartment. I moved."

Sam didn't ask why, just turned left and followed my directions until we parked in front of the apartment buildings facing San Francisco Bay.

Dean whistled appreciatively. "Nice stakes."

"You can park there." I pointed to an empty space. "And don't believe for a second that I leave this car before you do."

Sam sighed, but obeyed. When he had gotten out of the car, I opened the door, climbed out and led the way to the lobby, always keeping a reassuring eye on the brothers. I wouldn't let them out of my sight until I got their full story.

"Good evening, Ms Black." The porter glanced up briefly. If he noticed my deranged appearance and the two shady characters behind me, he didn't let it show.

"Evening, Mr Hurley. Would you do me a favour?"

He raised his eyes to look at me. "Of course. What can I do for you?"

"Do not tell anyone that I'm at home. Anybody asks for me, I'm out of town. Do not let anybody up, and if they say they're Jesus."

The porter didn't even blink. "Yes, ma'am."

"Thanks." I smiled and slipped him a fifty dollar bill. It was hard to find trustworthy porters these days, so you had to pay them well when you found one.

"Thank _you_, Ms Black. I wish you a pleasant evening."

"To you, too." I turned to the Winchester brothers again. "It's on the 8th floor. See you there." I turned to the staircase.

"Um, elevator out of order or something?" Dean frowned.

"Don't ask." Sam sighed and called the lift.

I refrained from some comment about cursing him with clowns dragging him to hell and let the door swing close behind me. I quickly ascended the flights of stairs until I eventually reached the eighth floor. Quite some good exercise for your legs and butt, holy crap.

"Explain something to me," Dean said as I unlocked the door to my apartment, "How in the world did you survive in the hunters' business with claustrophobia?"

I rolled my eyes at Sam, who replied with a daring lift of his eyebrows. "Normally, monsters don't hide in elevators. I admit that they do sometimes tend to lock you up in a room so small you can hardly bring your arms up, but who keeps score."

"Sounds uncomfortable."

"That was nothing compared to that time my father had me ending up buried alive, in a tiny coffin six feet under," I dryly added, "I'm not a psychologist, but I daresay that's the deep-seated root of my strong dislike of confining spaces."

"Huh. Makes more sense than Sammy's fear of clowns. They never did anything to you." The last part, Dean directed at his brother.

"Because your fear of flying is so much more reasonable. Oh, and by the way, we did hunt a homicidal clown once."

"Yeah, and we nearly crashed trying to exorcise a demon on a freakin' plane!"

"As entertaining and mature this conversation is… are you guys hungry? I'm not saying I'll get behind the hearth, but I do know a great Indian take-out place."

"God, yes. I'm starving."

I wordlessly handed Dean the menu.

"Beer?"

"Yes, please," Dean raised his eyes from the 'Taj Mahal' menu and looked at me with an inscrutable look.

"What?"

"I didn't expect quite that much… hospitality. Considering… you know."

"That's what Hansel and Gretel thought about the old lady with the sweet house, too," I smiled sweetly, "And we all know how that ended."

"Gee, thanks for that reassurance."

We smiled at each other for a moment before I walked into my kitchen and got out three beers and a bottle of whiskey.

"Hey, Ral, where'd that vampire jump you, anyways?" Sam asked as the three of us sat around my dining table. It was a hellishly awkward situation, really, but none of us could be bothered to think about that.

"Parking lot of a club nearby. Some friends and I went out yesterday night, like every Friday."

The brothers exchanged a look.

"What?"

"Today's Sunday, Rachel."

My mouth opened in surprise, but I caught myself again. "Huh. That would explain why I am so damn hungry."

"You're really not easily shaken, are you?"

"Not my style," my smile came a little forced. Truth was, there were a few things that were quite capable of rocking my world, making me fall so hard I found it hard to get up again. "So, anyways. Before we get to the reason why a vamp thinks it necessary to abduct me, I would really, _really _like to know what the hell is going on. And don't you dare spare the details."

"You sure you want the whole story?" Sam inhaled deeply, and I thought to catch a glimpse of worry in his eyes. Whether it was about me or himself, I couldn't make out in the nano-second it lasted.

"You asking like that implies that I don't want to hear the smallest detail, but believe me, I do."

What's more, I _had _to know. Not only for myself.

Sam ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "It all started when I was six months old…" 

**I owned the Winchester brothers and Supernatural… but then I woke up.**

**Reviews are love, my dears! :) **


	5. Malevolent Monsters

Somewhere halfway through their story, I was close to begging Sam to stop.

I had to know everything, though; no matter how nauseous it made me feel. When he finally ended with coming back from hell, I did not only seriously doubt my sanity but also whether I wasn't being too harsh on him.

After a minute of silence, I took a deep breath and quietly said: "Thank you. For being so honest with me. And for saving the world."

Sam's corner of his mouth actually lifted into a one-sided smile. Huh. What a seldom sight that had become.

"Kind of had to, considering I was the one who brought it upon us in the first place."

"Maybe. Still, I can't think of anybody who'd have jumped into the devil's cage…"

"Alright, you two, I'm going to excuse myself before it gets really cheesy," Dean got up and headed for the guest room I had prepared for them. When he had nearly passed the threshold, he turned to us, shooting a look at Sam in particular that pended somewhere between a smirk and a frown. "Behave yourselves, will you."

A short silence followed Dean's exit.

"Hey, Sam… I'm sorry."

"For what?" Sam frowned.

"Well, I've really been a bitch today, and you kind of do have bigger issues…I mean, I should have realized then that there was something going on, just like I should have realized that the damn apocalypse was going down…." I interrupted myself. How could I have not noticed the supernatural war raging on outside, how had I been able to just live my sweet life and let everything rest on the Winchester brothers' shoulders?

"Rachel, we agreed on not asking, not telling. Don't blame yourself for anything. You couldn't have known. As for the apocalypse… as capable as I'm sure you are, you couldn't have changed anything."

I bit my lip, not saying my thought out loud: Maybe my parents had been right and I really was too selfish to see when I had to put my own comfort behind the greater good… I should have fought. But I hadn't.

"Now that we've sorted out the self-sacrifice part of the story, feel free to hit me with accusations and lectures of how I shouldn't have given in to demons, their blood and darkness in general."

"Would I want to do that, I'd have done so already, believe me." I ran a fingertip over the rim of my wineglass, searching for the right words. The only thing that truly, deeply gnawed at me was Ruby. If I didn't know any better, I'd say it was jealousy biting its way through my heart. Since she was dead (and if she weren't, I'd make sure of that sometime soon), I decided it was the wisest not to bother about it, though. What's past is past. Most of the times.

"Look, Sam, this is an awful lot to swallow on one night, and I'm not saying I'm thinking straight. Hell, I don't even know _what_ to think or feel or…" I threw my hands up in the air helplessly. "What I do know for sure, though, is that I don't blame you. On a slightly smaller scale, you might even say I've been there myself."

Sam's sharp hazel gaze bored into my eyes.

I shrugged helplessly. "Hunting… it takes a lot from you, and sometimes I got obsessed with finding and killing the monster, I didn't look left or right. I was strung out, I felt empty. One day I reached the point when I wasn't brave enough to leave my family, but at the same time I wasn't weak enough to just subdue to their orders… I couldn't cope, so…"

Sam nodded slowly. "What was your poison?"

"Anything I could get my hands on," I huffed, "The places I hung around, nobody asks twice when a fifteen year old buys drugs."

"Fifteen?"

"Yeah. One of the many chapters in my life I'm not proud of. Hell, I don't even know what I _am_ proud of." Well, there was one thing… "Anyways."

Not quite liking the 'cheesy' direction this conversation was taking, I added: "That doesn't mean I'm forgiving you for bailing on me without a word, though."

"I didn't really expect you to, either."

"Maybe I'll figure this giant mess out one day, and then we can talk about reconciliation," I smiled very faintly, but sincerely. I didn't have the strength left to let Sam back into my life and heart yet, but maybe I would, one day.

Once I figured out what it was that made it so hard to just love and trust him.

***

Sam sat in Rachel's living room long after she had gone to bed. It wasn't like he needed sleep… because he wasn't able to. No sleep, no dreaming… nothing but emptiness.

He knew he should feel guilt. Because he left Rachel without another word in her most vulnerable moment.

He knew he should feel shame. Because of all the things he'd done and just now confessed to her. Because he'd banged her the night before her wedding (to another guy, mind you).

He knew he should feel gratitude. Because Rachel had helped him when he needed it most, and because she took him back into her life yet again, because she didn't blame him for any of his sins. Because she didn't care how badly he'd messed up.

He knew he should feel pain. Because his own brother didn't trust him, because no one would be able to cope with having been trapped in Lucifer's Cage.

He knew he should feel worry. Because he didn't feel a thing.

*

Dean didn't fall asleep right away, though he was completely exhausted. Last time he slept had been two days ago, and only for three hours.

'So this is Rachel… the girl Sam went to first thing after he came back.' Dean had heard very little about her from his brother, just enough to know she was one of Sam's old friends. What made her different from Sam's _other_ old friends was the fact that she not only knew about hunting (and even the whole Apocalypse story) but that she had let Sam and Dean stay anyways.

For a hunter who'd left the life behind her, she was way too cool with this.

'Maybe it's because she's different than me.'

Even _if_ Rachel wasn't so disinclined to the hunters' business as her life's story made one believe, something still didn't fit. So she let hunters stay, that's fine - but Dean had gotten the impression that Rachel almost _wanted_ Sam back in her life. That surely didn't make any sense, not after the way Sam left her one year ago.

Besides, even she had to feel the same thing he felt: Sam wasn't Sam. Was he even human? There were moments when Dean doubted it.

Dean didn't think that he'd gotten his brother, the brother who'd sacrificed himself for Dean, who he had practically raised, back from hell. Something was utterly wrong with Sam, or whoever it was. As far as he was concerned, his little brother, _Sammy_, remained gone.

And Dean had believed it would stay that way, that there was nothing that could ease his pain and bring his brother back for real.

Rachel Black was a factor he hadn't counted on. Maybe she would prove out to be a crucial piece in this horrid game; there was something about her that made Dean feel a flicker of hope before sleep overwhelmed him.

***

Until I stepped out of my bedroom, I had entertained the vague hope of everything having been a dream. I didn't want to think of the devil possessing Sam, of him in hell, of deals made to save a brother's life… of demon blood.

Sadly, there was no other explanation for the Winchester brothers in my kitchen other than that all of it had been real and not part of a nightmare (since I hadn't touched drugs in years, hallucination wasn't an option).

For today, I would have my job to keep my mind from reeling, turmoiling over the facts. But what would happen once I sat in quietness and had nothing to distract me? I couldn't escape the inevitable forever.

I had always suspected Sam to be in trouble, to have issues and to not be normal… but I hadn't expected this extent. Now I felt like pedalling water to keep from drowning, but the water was already filling my lungs…

"Morning, you two. I'd offer to make breakfast, but I've got to be at court in an hour. So you make yourselves at home, and don't you dream of taking off before I get back. Because trust me, I do have ways of tracking you down."

"I'll readily believe that," Dean said with an indiscernible look at me.

Sam said nothing, and maybe that was for the better. My feelings for him were in one hell of a mess, I couldn't tell upside from downside, couldn't tell compassion from anger, despair from amazement.

"'kay then," I took my vital dose of caffeine and got ready for the day. I was fixing my hair when Dean knocked at my bedroom door.

"Oh, hey."

"Can I talk to you for a sec?"

"Sure, come in."

It wasn't hard to see on which Winchester brother the Apocalypse and its consequences had taken a greater toll. Lost hopes, years of pain and deprivations, unknown horrors; it all reflected in Dean's green eyes, in the fine, premature lines on his face.

"Don't get me wrong, Rachel, I appreciate that you let us stay and all… but may I ask why? I didn't exactly get the impression that Sam and you are on the best of terms."

I sighed, brushed back a lose strand of hair from my face and replied: "We're not, that's true. And I'd be lying if I were saying that I'm doing it out of sentimentality, for the person Sam used to be. Because that person has been gone for so long I don't even remember it in all its bright colours. And I'm not doing it because I have a sense of loyalty to all hunters, or because I feel like I owe you because you saved the world. Well, I do kind of owe you for that, but it's not the reason that I let you stay and that I care." I fiddled with my earring, and had Dean known me, he'd recognized it as my nervous habit.

"But I have responsibilities." I paused, waiting with dread for him to press what I was referring to, but he didn't. "That vampire sought me out, Dean. Not only did it keep me in that warehouse for exactly so long for Sam and my family to show up, but it told me that it took me because he wanted to throw me into the game. Now, I've got no idea why monsters as well as my family want me back in the business. All I know is that after ten years, everything I left behind is coming back with rapid speed. I can believe a lot, but I can't believe that everything that happened last night is a coincidence."

Dean's face was unmoved as he listened to me, but it was a different lack of reaction than Sam's. Sam's was cold, while Dean appeared to be thinking what to make of all this.

"I want the truth, Dean. I know what you must think about me, leaving hunting, refusing to help my family and all…but I _do_ care."

"Why didn't you kick us, or rather, Sam, out of your life right away? We're the quickest way of getting you into trouble, and I do mean big trouble. And it seems like you've got your life sorted out quite nicely," Dean glanced around, "So why would you risk that?"

"I've got my reasons," I replied evasively, "One thing you should know is that I don't despise hunting. I didn't leave that life because I hated it, but because for me, it was inevitably connected with my family. So letting hunters into my life, that's nothing I've got a problem with. As long as they're no relative of mine."

Dean huffed, "Huh."

"What?

"Nothin'," Dean shook his head in a way people do when they dwell in memories, "It's just that you're a greater person than I gave you credit for."

I beamed at him; it felt nice being appreciated for a change. Ever since Jack had died, I hadn't felt that for a long time.

I just hadn't expected a Winchester to be the person to give it back to me.

"Thanks. What are you and Sam going to do?"

Dean shrugged, "Well, we still have to find the Alpha vamp, but I got the feeling Samuel and his gang are already on that, so I guess we're gonna look for another case meanwhile."

"Alright. Internet's at your disposal. I'll try make it back as soon as I can so we can figure out how to go about this."

Stopping-and-going my way through San Francisco's morning traffic, I wondered just how the hell my life would go on.

Everything had turned out so much worse than I had anticipated, and I was having trouble not showing how messed up I was inside. Had I known how much worse it would get still, I might have considered admitting myself to a padded room immediately. There, at least, I'd get a soft landing when I fell.

***

"Great girl," Dean remarked casually after Rachel had taken off, looking quite delicious in her tightly fitting pencil skirt, blouse and blazer. The sound of her black heels clacking on the parquet echoed through the room long after she'd closed the door behind her.

Sam looked up disinterestedly from the laptop he'd gotten out of his car and connected to Rachel's wi-fi. "You want to hit on her, go ahead."

"You know, maybe I will."

Sam's stare was not so disinterested anymore.

"Maybe it will finally trigger a reaction from you."

"I'm sorry?"

"Come on, man, you're seriously going to tell me that you've been acting normal ever since your return from hell? You're as cold as a chunk of ice, or in your case, more like an ice_berg_."

"Your point?"

Dean shook his head. Sam just didn't get it; what was wrong with his brother? _Was_ it even his brother? After the thing with the vampire turning him, Dean was pretty damn sure that it wasn't.

"Rachel ought to mean something to you, after all, she's the one you went to first thing after you came back. So I was just wondering whether she'd be able to get an emotional response from you." If Dean had to hit on her to test if it made Sam jealous, angry or just anything at all, then so be it. There were worse sacrifices than getting it on with a leggy redhead.

"Look, Dean… Rachel and me having a thing over a year ago doesn't mean anything." With that, the matter seemed to be done for Sam.

And Dean was as far as he'd been before; that was not his brother.

***

Blank.

My office desk was completely blank of evidence of a private life.

I used to have a picture of Jack and me on a beach in Hawaii, next to a group picture of Jess, Jane, Ellie and me. We had been a glorious quartet, and not just optically a perfect completion of each other; Jess with her wild blonde mane, Jane with her straight brown hair, Ellie with her black pixie cut and finally, me with my auburn curls.

After Jack's death and Sam's betrayal (as I thought of it), looking at those pictures had hurt to freaking much, so I took them down. I had moved, not wanting to deal with the memories of my old place.

I had buried my engagement ring with Jack, along with a letter asking him for forgiveness.

Memories of the funeral came back to me unasked, and they caught me in a vulnerable moment.

'This is all your fault,' I had never seen such vicious hatred in anybody's eyes but as in Kyle's, Jack's older brother.

'Kyle, stop,' Jack's best friend, Marty, took Kyle by his shoulders, holding him back. I had been sure that Kyle would have ripped me apart had he been given the chance.

I wouldn't have blamed him.

'You made him crash the car, you slut!'

People had turned their heads, indignant looks on their faces. I was glad that my own was hidden behind a thin black veil, so nobody would see the tears of guilt streaming down my cheeks.

'It was an accident, Kyle!' Marty shook him lightly, as if it could make him see the obvious facts.

Kyle hadn't been impressed. I remembered vividly the mad hatred burning in him, how fury was giving him strength but consuming his self-control. 'The hell it was! Jack called me minutes before he crashed, he was completely out of it. He said he'd just been at your place, he heard you with the other guy!'

My heart had stopped that moment, and realization hit me hard; even if Jack had lived, I would have never been able to make it right. I was no better than the things I had been hunting for most of my life; I destroyed other people's lives.

Jack's, because I had betrayed him in the most painful way.

Kyle's, because I took his brother away.

Jessica's, because I wasn't there when she needed me to protect her from that demon.

Jane's, because I hadn't been able to save her from the mental institution she'd been admitted to after she'd started talking of people burning on the ceiling.

Lucy's, because I should have been the one the shtriga took if I hadn't felt scared that night and cuddled up in the living room with my stuffed panda bear.

No matter how many people I saved throughout my lifetime – have there even been that many? I couldn't think of one at the moment – I wouldn't be able to make up for that.

'Kyle, stop it, man!' Marty gave him a rough shove, and that finally made Kyle step back from me. Fuming with grieving hate, he spat: 'You killed him.'

I hadn't said one word during his raging accusations. I hadn't said one word because there was nothing I could have said; Kyle had been right. The second Sam had stepped back into my life, I didn't care about anything else anymore. Not morals, not my job, not other people.

And now I was in for a second round.

"Rachel?"

I looked up. "Marty. What are you doing here?"

"Just wanted to see how you were. Haven't heard from you since Friday, we were kind of worried."

I smiled at my best friend. We had grown close over Jack's death, and I was grateful for Marty's support – but I felt guilty for entertaining this friendship. It felt like betraying Jack all over. "Curing my hangover. Sorry for worrying you."

"I'm just glad you're okay," Marty let himself fall into one of the comfortable armchairs on the other side of my desk, "And by the look of it, you're quite busy these days," he pointed to the stacks of files crowding in front of me.

"Can't complain about a lack of work," I smiled, trying not to think about just how much work I really had. The biggest piece of work was called Sam Winchester and was waiting for me at home. "How're your girls?"

Marty studied me with an intensive look. "They're doing great, thanks." All thoughtfulness wiped from his face, he leaned forward with a cheeky grin: "You wouldn't be willing to babysit them this weekend, by any chance?"

Chuckling, I opened my calendar on my blackberry. Just for the sake of appearance, of course, since I already knew I would spend this weekend hunting down my past. "Can't say for sure yet, I'll get back to you, alright?"

"Sure thing. I'll leave you to it now," He purposefully stood up, kissed me on the forehead and paraded out of my office.

Blowing out air in frustration, I glanced at the clock. I should stay for another hour or so, but I decided I was in no shape to get good work done, so I might as well go home.

I was half-expecting an empty apartment to wait for me, so I was pleasantly surprised at finding Sam and Dean present. Arguing, but hey, they were there and that's what mattered.

"So sorry to interrupt your lovely conversation," I held up both hands as if I could stop the words shooting back and forth between the brothers. "But could we get to the issue of someone obviously wanting me back in the hunting business for no apparent reason?"

"I think better on a full stomach."

"How you keep your shape, I've got no idea," I shook my head and walked past the elder brother towards my bed room. "Anyways, give me ten minutes, then we can go."

Letting out a sigh of comfort, I changed into jeans and top. As accustomed as I had grown to the formal clothing of the lawyers' business world, I still rejoiced in the simplicity of casual clothes. Just like I dwelled in the feeling of my hair flowing wildly over my shoulders – I supposed I should be glad that 'bed hair' was currently in style.

I took out my pearl earring and exchanged them for simple studs, and looked at myself in the mirror – the transformation had well taken five years off of my face.

'Because this is where you belong,' A voice whispered to me, 'Not in courtrooms, not in prisons talking with monsters like murderers, rapists and robbers. You're not meant to dress in impractical suits, because denim and leather are like a second skin to you. Your weapons aren't words and evidence, but guns, salt and knives. You belong out in the open, shotgun in your hand and fighting the other monsters in this world.'

I flinched and shook my head. _Don't I know_.

Of course I didn't fit in here; I never had. I hadn't fit into the hunters' world, either, though. I belonged nowhere; I had always been looking for a place I could call home, something to fill this emptiness inside of me.

I had tried filling that hole with drugs, with dangerous hunts, with love in the wrong places.

One was worse than the other: Drugs destroyed me, but they made hunting a little bit more bearable. Obsession took hold whenever I caught whiff of a hunt, and I didn't sleep, didn't eat until that monster was dead. Pain killers, heroine, and whatever I had swallowed, injected and smoked back then helped me – or so I had thought of it – to endure the physical as well as the psychological strain hunting brought me.

When the drugs weren't enough anymore, I turned to other means of filling that emptiness inside of me. I tried to mean something, to matter to someone. Of course, my taste in men would have been the first thing to be sensible, so naturally, I didn't turn to loving, caring bank accountants.

My disposition for men who not only broke my heart but damaged me psychically, too, was as dangerous as my addiction.

There was my biker boyfriend who died in a crossfire with the police. He'd been abusive and intimidating, but as a barely 15-year old, I'd been impressible and thought he was cool and heroic.

Then there was the rocker I'd lost my virginity to in the backroom of a shabby bar and who'd given me the first taste of cocaine. I had loved him for opening that door for me, not seeing what it had really done to me.

There were countless examples.

I had never cared about my self-destructive streak, because I was blind to it.

It was a part of me, a dangerous part. I had put it to rest ten years ago, when I'd sobered up overnight and had taken control over my own life; got a job, a loving fiancé.

Then Sam came. He had filled that void inside of me; at least, that's what it had felt and still did feel like. I didn't see then that he was filling it with poison.

Because he now had me poking at that part of me, poking at a resting monster.

**Thank you so much for the reviews, please keep them coming! :) **

**Usual goes, as for the whole story: Don't own, sadly. **

**Let me know what you think, and thanks for reading, favoriting and alerting! **


	6. Irrational Instinct

I didn't know whether I should be content with the way Sam, Dean and I had worked it out. I wasn't unhappy about it – but I wasn't happy, either.

We had agreed on the two of them continuing hunting, looking for clues and figuring out the whole Sam-back-from-hell thing. The moment they found out something about me or my family, they'd call me in. I had made them promise to stay in regular contact with me, which Dean had promised more readily than Sam had. In the end, however, they had both promised me, and that's what mattered to me.

Yet, I wasn't perfectly fine with how we'd had arranged.

Maybe it was the way that Sam hadn't shown the slightest sign of emotion during the whole talk that bothered me.

Maybe it was the knowledge that my normal life was over, that I was back in, whether I wanted it or not.

Maybe the true reason for my restlessness was this intense longing to love Sam.

Trust me, it was the last thing I wanted to do, and so far, I wasn't _able_ to love him, luckily. I mean, nobody could love a block of ice, right?

However, there was this calling inside of me that told me that I _wanted_ to love him.

I was saved from burying myself deeper in thoughts on how messed up I had to be if I was indeed falling for Sam by my cell ringing viciously loud in the silence of my living room. "Hey, Dean."

"Hey, Rachel… you got a minute?"

***

He'd gotten Bobby's and Lisa's honest opinion so far, would soon get Sam's; only one missing was Rachel. He might as well get as much out of this curse as possible.

Dean would apologize to her later – if he survived that long.

"Hey, Dean," Her voice was as calm as ever, though she did sound as if just ripped from daydreams.

"Hey, Rachel… you got a minute?"

"Sure, what's up?"

"I've got a question for you." Dean took a deep breath. Here goes brutal honesty, take three. "Why are you really helping us? You could deal with this perfectly on your own, maybe even better. You don't need us, so why do you care so much about us in general and Sam in particular?"

Rachel sucked in air sharply. Her tongue knotted in her mouth, twisted itself, almost made her gag; she wanted to say that it was because she had her reasons, because she wanted to know what the things going bump at night were up to.

None of that came out, though. It was as if someone had taken control over her speech.

"Dean, please don't make me-"

"I'm sorry, but I have to." Dean really was sorry; he figured that he had a right to know what Bobby, Lisa and Sam thought, since they'd been in his life for a long time. Rachel, however, was entirely not his business - technically. "I like you, Rachel, I really do. But if there's one thing I learned from hunting, it's to never trust anyone."

"I understand that."

It was a strange feeling to know that it was the naked truth; Rachel really understood him, it wasn't just an empty phrase. That was the shiny side of the coin; the dark side was that he would probably hear things he'd rather not know.

It came different, though.

"You're cursed with that honesty thing, aren't you?" Rachel asked, and Dean thought to hear an edge of despair in her voice.

"So Sam told you about that."

"Yes, he did." Rachel breathed heavily, obviously trying to keep the next words from spilling from her mouth: "I slept with Sam the day before my wedding. On the kitchen table. God, that so wasn't meant to slip out."

Dean closed his eyes, trying to chase away certain images involving his brother, Rachel and a table. "Alright, trying not to picture that."

"The worst thing was that I considered it worth risking my engagement."

"Okay, okay, Rachel – stop. Really."

"I wish I could, you have no idea of how badly I want to stop talking. In a way, though it's your fault. You called me, knowing you'd get nothing but the truth."

"I didn't know it would leave me scarred for life."

"You're already damaged. Damn, I'm sorry, it wasn't meant to come out that harsh."

"No, it's okay."

"You're nothing compared to Sam, though, he's a cold-hearted, unfeeling and ruthless ass these days, and if I wasn't feeling so inclined to love him, I'd have probably shot him long ago."

"I know wh- wait, what?" Dean would have prayed he'd had heard wrong if he'd been the praying type. Now he could just hope his gunshots-and-loud-rock-music-damaged ears had misunderstood Rachel.

"Great, so it really is true. Damn it." Rachel said to herself. If she told Dean that she wanted to love Sam, it had to be true. That was the fucked up ending to an already fucked up week. Hell, to a fucked up life.

"Rachel, what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"That means that I cannot explain why, but I feel deep down inside of me that I want to love Sam. No matter how unbearable he is, I want to love him. Sometimes it even feels like I need to."

'Wow, hunting with a father like Ewan Black really did mess with this poor girl's idea of boyfriend material for a functional relationship.' Dean ran a hand over his forehead. "Alright, I have no idea what that says about your mental state, other than you seem to be masochistically inclined, nor do I have any idea what it means; but it qualifies as a reason for why you care."

"That's not the real reason."

Dean's eyes widened as he leaned onto the Impala's roof and watched the apartment building where Sam was currently interrogating patient zero's sister. "Then what is?"

Dean didn't think Rachel could drop a bigger bombshell after confessing her strange urge to love Sam; maybe she could have, but Dean wouldn't find out, as Rachel replied: "I cannot tell you."

"What?" Had the curse worn off?

"I can't tell you the real reason why I care so much. That's the truth."

Thoughts were spinning in Dean's head faster than the Impala's wheels on an empty highway. Rachel couldn't lie. She was simply not able to.

Then how could she keep a secret from him despite that?

Instead of getting answers, Dean's call to Rachel had just dug up more questions.

***

I snapped my cell closed and sat motionlessly for a minute. I couldn't believe two things; for one, that I wasn't imagining this strange need to love Sam. For another, that it had worked… I really couldn't talk about it.

Relief swept over me despite all the involuntary confessions I'd made. The most important secret, I had kept to myself.

I was also glad I had kept quiet about my not-so-glamorous past. The last thing I needed was for Sam and Dean to look at me like some kind of borderline, unbalanced junkie.

A sharp knock at the door made me nearly jump out of my skin. I frowned; I had ordered Mr Hurley not to let anybody up.

I reached for the phone and called the porter's desk. Nobody answered, and a sneaky sense of dreadful foreboding filled me.

Before I could act on that instinct, the door was violently flung open. Unhinged, what used to be my front door was now dangling like a lose string from the wall.

The shriek never left my throat, as the demon's hand closed around it and squeezed.

No, not a demon, I realized when I caught the flittering air behind the unknown man's body. Wings.

An angel.

I was just about to think my last thoughts when the stinging smell of sulphur filled the air, followed by a blinding white light, a scream and then nothing.

I gasped for air, trying to see through the haze of dizziness clouding my mind. When my vision cleared, I could make out a woman in her thirties with short brown hair – and black eyes.

Those coals burned into me, before the woman opened her mouth and screamed out black smoke.

I coughed, held a hand to my aching throat and tried to make out what the hell was going on. Oxygen was pumping back into my brain, and I realized that a demon had just saved me from an angel.

I also realized that I had to get away from here as quickly as possible. Taking just enough time to throw some clothes into a duffel bag, I grabbed my car keys and sped out of my apartment. I had to get away before the police arrived; which, judging from the increasingly loud sirens, wouldn't be long.

Everything had happened so fast that I didn't even take time to think about it; only when I was on the highway outside San Francisco did I force myself to calm my breathing and think logically.

Screw logic. I'd act on instinct.

"Rachel?"

"Sam, are you still in Calumet City in Illinois?"

"Yes… Rachel, what's wrong?"

"Everything!" I snapped.

Sam didn't snap back; his voice was almost soothing. "Apart from that."

I took two deep breaths. I had to admit it calmed me to hear Sam's voice, it grounded me, in a way. "I'm coming to meet you."

"What?"

"Don't move, okay? I really need to see you."

"Rachel, what happened?"

"I wish I knew… it's all wrong. There was an angel, he was just suddenly there, and…"

"Wait, an angel? What'd he want?"

"Me, dead. Nearly succeeded, too."

"How'd you get rid of him?"

"I didn't. A demon did."

"Come again?"

"I told you it's all wrong. Look, I really can't do this over the phone, just promise me you'll wait for me in Calumet City, okay? I can't do this alone. I thought I could, but I can't." That must have been the biggest admittance of defeat and weakness I had made in a long time – and to Sam, too. I wouldn't have thought that he'd be the first person I'd go to.

His answer surprised me even more: "Alright. Promise. We're staying at the Red Inn, room number 5. I'll be there."

The real surprise was that I believed him.

I only stopped once on my long way to Illinois; to sleep for two hours. For the rest of the drive, I dosed up on caffeine and ignored any speed limit I passed.

So when I arrived in Calumet City nearly two days later, I wasn't necessarily in the best of shapes. I carelessly parked my car on the motel's parking lot, jumped out of the car and banged on the door labelled number 5.

I wasn't sure I could have borne not seeing Sam; my mental state was in a very sad condition indeed if I turned to the emotionless guy for comfort. I couldn't care about that now, though. I had bigger issues.

Apart from that, it wouldn't have been the first time I looked for comfort at the wrong address. You were supposed to learn from mistakes, but when you never realized you made one, you happily stepped into the same kind of mess over and over again.

The door opened, and I felt the adrenaline that had me going for the past 36 hours leave my body within a nano-second. Robbed of all strength, I let myself sink against Sam, closed my arms around his waist and buried my face in his chest.

"Rachel. Hey, it's okay."

I sincerely doubted that. Though I had to admit that Sam's hands comfortingly rubbing across my back helped to cease that doubt a little.

"Come on, let's get you inside." His voice sounded softer than I remembered as he pulled me into the room and locked the door behind us. If I had known all it took was a nervous breakdown to get at least a little hint of compassion from him, I'd have thrown a fit much sooner.

I sat down on the edge of the bed, or rather; I let Sam gently push me down onto the edge of the bed. Rather than seeing him sit down opposite me, I felt his weight on the mattress beside me.

Needless to say, that brought back memories I'd rather have done without.

"What happened?" The care was gone from his voice again, but for the moment, it was good enough for me to remember that it might have been there.

"An angel suddenly showed up, tried to kill me and had nearly succeeded in doing so when suddenly it smelled like sulphur – when I looked around, a demon stood there, bloody symbols were on the wall and the angel was gone."

"What'd the demon do then?"

"Disappear. Well, it left the human's body. It didn't even try to hurt me," I buried my face in my hands, "What the hell's going on, Sam? Why are demons, angels and whatnot suddenly so intent on either killing me or getting me hunting again? Why did a freaking _demon_ save my life?"

"I don't know. I wish I did, but I don't."

Resolutely I raised my eyes to his. I had made up my mind. "I need to be in on this, Sam."

"What? No way."

"Why not?"

"Rachel, you have a life, a normal, good life."

"Which won't be worth much when I'm dead."

"If you want to live, you probably shouldn't get back to hunting. It's not exactly known for the job with the highest life expectancy."

"Maybe not. But it's also known as the job with the highest probability of cheating death," I raised an eyebrow.

"That's beside the point."

"Then what is the point, Sam?"

"We have no idea what is going on here. All monsters have suddenly gone even crazier, even more powerful. You haven't been hunting for ten years, you're basically a rookie. They'll tear you apart. Leave this to us, we'll find answers."

If I had detected even the slightest sign of genuine concern in his voice, I might have left it at that. Since I didn't, I snapped instead: "One: I'm not a rookie, damnit. Don't judge me until you've actually seen me in action. Two: I've already sat out the apocalypse. I won't shy back from my responsibilities again. This fight isn't only yours anymore, Sam. Apart from that you're in no position to give me any orders."

The look he gave me was calculating, measuring and unreadable. "I thought you'd never want to hunt again."

"For one: Things change. For another: I hated hunting for a long time, but mostly because of my family. I know it's a life full of deprivations, and if I had a choice, I wouldn't choose it. But it's not all bad… Fact is, I grew up with it and it's a part of me. I've had my fair share of normal; I guess my playtime is over."

Hunting _really_ wasn't all bad; there were just jobs that paid out better and hurt less. Just like there were jobs that held less temptation to give in…

"Besides, I can't really live a normal life knowing demons and angels are out to get my head."

"You are aware that you're about to do the very thing your hated family wants you to?"

"Yes – but I won't ever hunt with them again."

"Dean and I will get you in even worse trouble, fair warning."

I had the sneaky feeling Dean wasn't so much the problem here… but I had spoken my share of truth for now.

"Speaking of, where is he? Still under the curse?" Damn, that hadn't meant to slip out.

Sam narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "You know about that?"

"Yeah, um, Dean called me. That's all I'm willing to share with the press right now."

"I don't even want to know," Sam got up, "What I _would_ like to know is why you decided to come to me."

"You're the only lead I got," I replied matter-of-factly.

"Right," Sam seemed satisfied by that. Apparently, he wasn't under the curse, or I would have spilled out some more reasons why I came to him.

For instance: You're the only one I got left.

Or: I feel an inexplicable draw towards you.

Or: You're the only one I know capable of helping me.

"To answer your question: Dean's out to get the archive of 'Frank Talk'."

"Come again?" I shot him a puzzled look.

Note to self: When you went to Sam Winchester these days and told him you wanted back in the business, he wouldn't hold your hand as you tiptoed your way into the water; he'd throw you into the riveting currents himself.

In this case, I got hit with the full lecture of Greek Gods and Goddesses, specifically Veritas, and of dogs, their blood, gruesome suicides, disappearing bodies, cats and bloody sacrifices.

Welcome back to business, Rachel.

"And you think this, what's her face-"

"Ashley Frank."

"Right, whatever, you think that she's Veritas and makes people kill themselves because they can't handle the truth."

"Yeah, we'll know more once Dean gets back."

Speaking of the devil, Dean barged into the room that very second. "Rachel?"

"Hey, Dean." I hope he got the silent plea in my eyes: Don't ask me anything.

Apparently, he did. "Nice seeing you again. I'll ask you all about the reason for it after I'm un-cursed, because honestly, I've got my load of honesty."

I huffed. "Thanks."

"By the way, you look like you haven't slept in days, and it's not an improvement."

"Gee, thanks, Veritas slam me with her curse, too?"

"No, I'm just a generally honest person."

I rolled my eyes. "No, you're not."

"Man, this curse really isn't anything for the sensitive among us."

"Way of life. So, let's watch the creepy bitch's show and get Veritas off the table."

"'Scuse me?"

I gave Dean the quick update, which he accepted with a huffed 'huh'. Made me almost wish Veritas had indeed cursed me so I could get Dean to tell me what went on in that handsome but damaged head of his.

Somewhere in-between the question whether genetically modified food was ethically correct or not and the true story behind intensive livestock farming, my eyes closed and I cuddled into the motel bed, too exhausted to fight sleep overwhelming me.

***

Sam watched Rachel's sleeping form and waited for some emotion stirring in him. Nothing.

He knew that had he met her again after Jessica and before hell, he would have cared a great deal about her. He would have loved the way her grey eyes sparkled, how her left eye narrowed when she wasn't buying your bullshit story, how she absent-mindedly piled her thick curls into a messy bun, how she fiddled with her earring when she was nervous and how she'd heartily dig into her food when she was pissed at something.

Sam felt none of that now, but he did know he admired Rachel for her strength of character. She didn't cling on to her normal life with dogged obstinacy but was willing to accept when she'd lost.

'She accepted fate a lot quicker than I did," Sam thought.

Sam knew he had dragged her back into it; he should have never entered her life again, and he would have felt guilt had he been able to. Rachel might know it, too; if she did, she didn't let it show.

More still, she hadn't only chosen to be back in the hunting business, but she had chosen to hunt with them. Therewith, she'd stepped into the same mess Sam was in, and she didn't seem to mind.

Sam reached out a hand, softly lifted the strand of hair that had fallen into Rachel's face and plucked it behind her ear. He refrained from tracing the bruises on her neck. Seeing Rachel hurt should trigger anger in him; and he did vow to hunt down the angel who'd done this to her. But he didn't _feel _the anger, as much as he wanted to, just like he didn't feel the love for Rachel, no matter how badly he wanted it to warm his heart.

"This is a bad idea, you know."

Sam's eyes travelled from Rachel's face to his brother's. "You mind being a little more specific?"

"Letting her hunt with us."

"What do you want to do, let her walk out of here right into the angel squad's awaiting arms?"

Dean groaned, "No, of course not. It's just… we don't know her that well, Sam, and the fact that the nukes want her dead while demons are her guardian, well, _demons _– that doesn't exactly put her on first on my to-trust-list."

"On the other hand, we've been saved by demons before, too, while angels were out to get us. It doesn't make her an enemy."

"She could be possessed," Dean couldn't deny the logic in Sam's words. However, Rachel had been able to keep a secret from him when she couldn't lie; that made her suspicious in his book.

"No, she couldn't be."

"Oh, yeah, how'd you know that?"

"She's got an anti-possession tattoo on her back."

"Naturally you would know about that."

Sam rolled his eyes and pointed at the laptop's screen. "I think I've found something."

The brothers stared at the news reporter's silvery-blue glowing eyes. "Okay, then, let's gank ourselves a Greek goddess."

"Rachel," Sam turned and lightly shook her shoulder.

"Mhm, just two more minutes..." She mumbled and shifted slightly.

Sam chuckled quietly. Rachel, the tough huntress, looked adorably cute when she was sleeping.

"Rachel," Sam insisted, "We found Veritas."

"Well, I found the goddess of sleep, and she calls to me and demands to be worshipped."

Sam wished there was such a thing as a goddess of sleep; maybe she could make him dream again. "You wanted back in, Ral."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Rachel stretched and swung her long legs over the edge of the bed. "Tyrant."

"Brat."

"Alright, you two lovebirds, once you're done, could we get back to the case? I really don't want to end up as some freak goddess' dinner."

Rachel regarded Dean with a smothering glare and had trouble holding her true thoughts from spilling out of her mouth.

"I say we follow her home tonight, drive a knife dipped in dog blood through her heart and end the spook."

"Sounds like a plan."

"I'll go get some stuff we're going to need," Sam got up and two minutes later, was out the room leaving Dean and Rachel in a not-so-comfortable silence.

"Dean, look, I get that you don't really trust me."

"I trusted you, until you were able to lie to my face when nobody should be able to say anything but the truth to me."

"I didn't lie when I said I couldn't tell you the real reason why I want to help, why I want back in. I really cannot tell you."

"How's that possible?"

"I can't say."

Dean gave up for now. He considered the honesty in Rachel's eyes to be legit.

"I trust you, Dean. I just don't know if I can trust anybody else, myself included. I don't know what's going on and I want answers."

"Okay. Do me a favour, though…"

"I'll leave Veritas to you and Sam and stay here."

"How did you know I was going to ask you that?"

"It's not hard to figure out that you two have some unresolved issues between each other, and I get that now is the best time to get answers. Just be careful."

Dean wondered where Rachel got all that enduring patience and understanding from; she didn't seem like the sweetest-tempered person, so why'd she put up with the trouble Sam and Dean had caused and would cause her?

"What are you going to do?"

"Take a shower, for one, and then I've got a few things to do."

"Like what?"

"You really use this curse to the maximum, don't you?" Rachel narrowed her eyes.

"It's not often that you get the truth only."

"Fair enough. Alright, then, if you must know: I have some calls to make, seeing as I just took off with my apartment a giant mess and nobody knowing where I went to, then I'm going to get my hair dyed blonde."

Dean's eyes widened as a puzzled expression crossed his face.

"I'm actually a natural blonde, but I figured that you get taken more seriously with dark hair, so, to mark the cut I made with my family and former life, I exchanged blonde for auburn and rifle for college textbook. Now I'm going to exchange Prada pumps for biker boots." Rachel stepped towards the bathroom, "Oh, and please kill Veritas quickly, because that damn truth curse makes me blab."

"I've noticed."

"Sorry. But you kind of asked for it."

Rachel disappeared into the bathroom, stripped off her clothes and stepped into the shower. She let out a languorous sigh as the hot water washed off the stress and fatigue of the past days; she had returned to the hunting business easier than she had thought. No regrets. Not yet.

She took a deep breath, felt the steam fill her lungs. 'Be careful of the path you tread...'

By the time Rachel came back to the motel after having her hair dyed back to its natural colour, Sam had returned from his errand – getting dog blood – and was rather surprised by the woman who stepped into the room.

Not only did the honey-colour of her hair emphasize the glow in her grey eyes, but also did it underline the fine soft features of her face. It made her look younger; but also more vulnerable. Rachel should have screamed at his protective instincts; but he didn't have any.

Sam didn't think he'd ever seen her in such casual, practical clothing; jeans, whose holes looked as if they'd been torn in some kind of fight, a black shirt with a white eagle printed on it, worn black leather boots with a jacket to match.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just wondering who you are and what you've done with Rachel."

"Hilarious," Rachel kicked the door shut, "I went out to get a little makeover, just in reverse order, I turned from swan to duckling."

"I wouldn't say that."

"Meaning?" Rachel's tone wasn't demanding; her voice was low and matched Sam's in suggestiveness.

Sam just smiled and went back to packing the weapons Dean and he would need tonight. "Alright, we're gonna go. You'll be okay?"

"I'm not a helpless damsel in distess, Sam. I can take care of myself for a few hours, you know."

"Right… never mind."

Dean had already filed out of the room when Rachel called: "Sam, wait."

Sam turned and looked at her enquiringly.

"Um… be careful, okay?"

He wasn't sure what he was supposed to make of the genuine concern in her silver eyes, just like he wasn't sure whether he should do this or not; in the end, he decided to do it.

Sam leaned forward and gave her a kiss on the forehead. He'd have chosen her lips, but was well aware that Rachel was probably still entertaining some resentment against him and that it wouldn't have been his best move.

Sam didn't see how Rachel tentatively reached out a hand, as if to hold him, as he walked out the door.

**Thanks for alerting, reviewing and reading! :) **

**I would love to hear your thoughts and opinions on the story, my loves! :) **


	7. Cold Comfort

I returned to the motel in complete darkness, save for the occasional circle of light thrown by a street lamp. I had gone out for a quick dinner, called Marty on my way back while Sam and Dean were gone hunting Veritas and had just pressed the 'end call' button on my cell when I caught Dean loading the Impala's trunk.

No Sam to be seen anywhere.

"Dean…? How'd it go?"

He turned and looked at me. It was hard to tell in the darkness, but I thought his face to have lost another shade of hope. "Veritas' dead."

"Great, so what's…"

"I think Sam had better tell you," Dean returned his attention to his car's trunk.

Fear of what was to come made my heart beat faster against my chest, it mingled with relief over Sam being alive. I hesitated before I pushed the door open.

After all, how much worse could it get?

"Sam? Dean wouldn't tell me what happened, so what…?"

He looked perfectly fine, unlike his brother. As if for him, nothing had changed.

Sam regarded me with a long look, calmly packed a shirt into his duffel bag and only then turned to face me with a sigh. "Rachel… Cass found the reason why I've been…wrong since I came back from hell. Different, cold, ruthless, whatever you'd like to call it."

That so didn't sound good.

"What…" I cleared my throat, "What is it?"

Sam's eyes were empty when he looked at me. "My soul's gone."

For a second, I couldn't breathe. When would it stop getting worse?

"So if you want to back out, go ahead. I won't blame you."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't have a soul, Rachel. Which means I feel absolutely nothing. Not for Dean, not for you and not for anyone."

I flinched from the physical pain that caused me. I think that somewhere deep down, I had always hoped our time together had meant something to him, especially that last night before he left.

Finding out that it didn't, well, it hurt like hell. While I had been willing to sacrifice my engagement, everything I had built up over eight years for _him_, for that one night, Sam hadn't even felt a thing.

I looked at the door. It radiated temptation, whispered beguilingly at me to leave. To return to my comfortable life, to let the Winchester boys figure it out and give me a call once they found answers.

'This isn't only about you, Rachel,' a sensible voice called to me, 'Comfort isn't part of the equation. Fight.'

I closed my eyes, swallowed my tears and turned to Sam. Then I did the hardest thing I had probably ever done: I didn't leave. I cared.

Sam's face was unmoved as I stepped closer to him. I might as well have been talking to a display dummy, but I wouldn't let myself think about that. I had to believe that there was still something human, at least, in him. "I guess that if your soul's missing…" I swallowed hard, determined not to spill those tears, "We better find it."

***

Dean stepped into the room just in time to hear Rachel's words, to see how she gently caressed Sam's cheek with trembling fingers. If she was willing to care about a soulless man so much that she was ready to take any pain to get his soul back, then she was not only seriously damaged, but also the bravest woman Dean ever met.

Had he been in her place, he'd have left the second Sam said he's soulless. Hell, he would have never come running back to him in the first place.

Did Sam even see the pain in Rachel's grey eyes, did he know how much it hurt her to feel bound to a man who had no soul? Probably not. Even if, he wouldn't care.

As sorry as Dean was that Rachel lacked good judgement when it came to men, he felt a little comforted that he wasn't the only one who was in on soul saving patrol, just like he wouldn't be the only one suffering from this heartless Sam.

What did his brother hold over Rachel that she was so hell-bent, literally speaking, on staying with him until the bitter end? She must have known all she'd get would be heartache, and lots of it, too, and nothing in return.

Yet, that night, she stayed and didn't leave.

***

The streets were empty, there was barely any traffic all the way to the Campbell base. While following the Impala in my Audi, I finally allowed my tears to spill.

I sobbed, out of tune, along to the radio, glad that my make-up was waterproof.

Had it just been Sam's character that was so cold and impossible to love, then I might have been able to live with that. It wouldn't have been the first time I was wrong in a person, and he wouldn't have been the first jerk I'd slept with.

But soulless? How had I been able to fall for that, for him?

'God, these past three days really messed up everything.'

Suck it up, Rachel.

I wiped my tears away and reached for my phone. "How much further?" I asked as way of 'hello'.

"Five minutes."

"Alright, I'll wait for you here," I pulled over at the side of the deserted highway.

"What, why?"

"I didn't get the sense your grandfather is going to invite my family over for dinner anytime soon, so I figured you two best go ahead alone. I'm really not in the mood for justifying myself." I hung up before my voice would break and Sam could reply.

Half an hour later, three cars passed me, followed by the Impala who pulled up at the opposite side of the road. With a sigh, I got out and slammed the door.

Sam and I met in the middle of the road.

"So?"

"So, Samuel still has his soul, thinks you can't be trusted and has a lead on the Alpha vampire."

I rubbed my temples. Way too much information, way too little time these days. "Yeah, well, I don't really give a crap whether he trusts me or not. As long as he has no answer as to where your soul is or why demons want me back in the game, you're all stuck with me. So let's go roast ourselves a vamp. Well, actually, it'd be more like you guys go roast yourselves a vampire, because I will get some ammo in the meantime and stock up my car. Meet you later."

"Where are you gonna get ammo just like that?"

I turned around, already on my way to my car. "You kidding me? You, of all people, should know best that just because you study law, you don't have to obey it. I've got my ways."

It felt good falling back into hunting routine. Not only was I good at it and knew the drill to the last detail, but also did it enable me to keep my mind off the troubles at hand. Such as the fact that I still felt so damn drawn to Sam. I supposed that he could plunge a knife into my chest and I'd still want to be with him.

Hell, in a way, he already had plunged a knife into my chest. Finding out he had no soul had actually been more painful than any shot, cut or bruise I had received in 13 years of hunting. Finding out he didn't feel a thing for me had been twisting the knife.

'Enough metaphoring, Rachel. You want to get his soul back, you better toughen up.'

I slowly turned off the ignition and watched the gun store for a while.

'Now or never.' Noiselessly, I opened the door, slipped out and hushed across the street.

The alarm never went off; there were several things I was good at, disabling alarm system was one of them.

So it wasn't until the early morning light when the theft of several firearms and ammunition was discovered, and by then, I was long gone.

"Where did you…?" Dean looked over my shoulder as I rearranged my trunk so that all the weapons would fit in without being discovered immediately.

"Broke into a gun store, then went a little souvenir-shopping in a church and finished my groceries in some esoteric shop."

"How is any of that legal?"

"It isn't, in fact, none of it is, but I don't recall 'hunting' being an honest job. So unless that's changed over the past ten years…" I shut the trunk, "So what's the deal?"

"Samuel's keeping Alphas alive and 'grilling' them for info, as Sam put it."

"Er…why?" I felt like someone who was put in a freezer for ten years and now awoke to find the world around me completely changed. What the hell's been going on with hunting while I missed out? Angels, Devil, Alphas… this world was weirder than I remembered.

"That's what we'd like to know, too. Sam's gone back to see if he can get Samuel to take him along."

"Plotting against your own family," I pursed my lips, "Glad to see I'm not the only one doing that."

"Yeah, well, Samuel's hardly family. For me, anyways," Dean sighed and shot a look towards the headquarters that lay somewhere further away in the darkness.

"We'll find Sam's soul, Dean."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Well, I didn't get the not so charming tag 'bloodhound' for nothing. I catch a trail of something I hunt it down to the end. So, if we're on a mission to find Sam's soul, I won't give up until we have it back, and I know that you won't, either."

"I don't suppose that if I ask you for the hundredth time why you care so much that you're suddenly going to tell me?"

"Sorry, no. I've got my reasons, and yes, I've got my secrets, too, but if any of either would pose a threat to you or Sam, I would have told you. I'm not like my family, I don't put others on the line to get what I want." The only one I put on the line was myself.

"I'm surprised you grew up with a conscience, having that kind of family."

"Yes, me, too."

"What are you going to do once we get Sam's soul back, if ever?"

I crossed my arms before my chest, leaned against my car and inspected the ground as if it were a riveting movie. Luckily, Sam for once proved to have a good sense of timing and saved me from answering. "Okay, so he didn't take the bait, and I went for plan B."

"We had a plan B?"

The three of us leaned on the Impala's hood and waited for 'Arc Mobile' to show us the location of the phone in Samuel's truck.

"Got him, let's go."

"Sam, wait, do me a favour. I need you to track two other numbers."

He frowned, but didn't ask. "They're both in the same city, but in a different area."

"Huh. Hope that's just coincidence," I mumbled, swung open the driver's door and leaned on its frame to look at the brothers.

"Whose numbers are these, Rachel?"

"Hayden's and my Mom's. That's the second time they're in the same area like your family. Something's up. I mean, seriously, this country is freaking huge, and still they trample on each other's toes."

"What's your family's angle, anyways?"

"You think I know? I haven't heard from them in ten years, hell, I didn't even know they were all still alive. All I do know is that wherever they show up, trouble isn't far behind. Usually, it's bloody trouble, which, considering an Alpha vamp is somehow involved, makes me very uneasy. So I'd say that you two check out what your grandfather's up to while I go snoop a little after my family."

"You think they're involved?"

"You could pay my parents all the money in the world and they wouldn't want me back. Last week they suddenly reappear in my life telling me to pack my stuff and get back at it with them. Something's not right."

"Alright, then. We'll call."

"'kay. See you guys later." I got into the car and drove onto the interstate.

There were way too many unknown factors in this equation, and I didn't like it one bit. For one, where was Sam's soul, why was it gone in the first place? Then: what did my family have to do with all this? And why did I have this creepy premonition that what little structure my world had left would crumble within a few days?

I parked my car two blocks from the place my family hid out, according to the cell signals Sam traced. Taking a quick look around to check for unwanted witnesses, I opened the trunk and got out my newly stolen gun, a couple of knives and ammunition. I zipped up my leather jacket and hushed down the street, quiet and fleeting like a shadow in the night.

Unsurprisingly, my family's residence proved to be a deserted industrial building. I inspected the whole place, looking for a weak link.

Found one.

Glad that I had stayed fit even after my life no longer depended on how fast I could run and how high I could jump, I started up and hopped onto the shoulder-high brick wall. After I found safe footing, I carefully balanced my way down to the fire escape, where I gripped the iron railing and pulled myself onto the platform. My boots made no sound as I ascended the rusty stairs to the third story, where I entered the building through a broken window.

As I leaned against the wall and waited for my breathing to calm down, my thoughts drifted off to Sam – again.

I had absolutely no reason to trust him any more than I trusted my family; yet I was here, spying on my own kin to help him. He, who was practically a stranger.

I had known it even back then, when he first showed up after having been gone for six years; he hadn't been Sam. Even if he'd have a soul, he wouldn't have been the guy I'd known at Stanford.

So what had driven me to let myself be drawn in, apart from wanting to find out what was with the angels out for my head?

I might never find out; but there was a slight chance I that I would, and I had to take it.

Reassuringly, I patted the small of my back, where I had placed my gun into the waistband of my jeans. I was careful not to tread on any piece of broken glass as I snuck down the corridor, towards the muffled voices.

It seemed like a movie scene, but then again, I sometimes felt like my whole life had been a movie; a horror movie. A very badly written one.

The corridor ended and became a gallery, faintly illuminated from below. Crouching so that I would not be seen, I got as close to the end of it as I dared. The large hall below me suited my purposes, as my family's voices echoed loudly from the blank walls.

"We cannot allow the Campbells to continue like this. They're keeping those monsters alive!"

"That's not what bothers me. What bothers me is why, what do they want with them."

"You know full well what they want, Ewan," My mother coolly said, "Either way, it doesn't matter. Let them poke at purgatory, why should we care. We should instead focus on how Alphas can help us open Lucifer's Cage again."

What the hell.

"Great idea, Mom, the problem is that they have the Alpha right now, which makes it hard for us to interrogate him."

"Well, Karen, what do you figure we do then?" My mother – I refused to call her Mom, as that was an affectionate term reserved for those who deserved it – snapped.

"Go steal the Alpha from them?"

"Very good. Load the truck."

"Think we get lucky and get the chance to kill some Campbells?" Hayden laughed, "Or maybe even a Winchester. I bet Rachel wouldn't be too happy to hear about her lover getting hurt."

I pressed my lips together to tightly it hurt, and my hands trembled from the repressed urge to pull out my gun and shoot my asshole brother in the head.

"Hayden, focus on the job. We need that Alpha. Nothing else is important. And keep your sister out of this, we want her back and not even more pissed at us."

I've heard enough, and it was damn time I got out of here. Surprisingly, I was able to keep my mind focused as I hurried back to my car.

"Sam, come on, pick up…" I begged.

"Yeah," He sounded strained.

"Hey, Sam, look… are you okay?" I had tried hard not to phrase that question, but it popped out of me anyways.

"Kind of staring down a gun over here, but other than that I'm good. What'd you find?"

"Seriously, you're looking down a barrel and still don't feel a damn thing?" I shook my head. "Unbelievable. Anyways. So your own family turned on you, huh? Nice. Karma's a bitch."

"Get to the point."

"I can't, not with your charming grandfather around. Is he listening?"

"Kind of."

"Oh, hell, screw this," I cussed when I saw my family's truck rolling out onto the street, "Look, you guys need to get the Alpha out of there and fast."

"Sure, we'll have him delivered to base camp with ups right away."

"Don't get all sarcastic with me. I mean it. My family is on their way to you, and they want the Alpha. They get him, we're in trouble, so tell Samuel to suck it up and trust me."

"He doesn't look like he's trusting us at the moment, let alone you."

"Well, he let you pick up the phone, so he had to believe I had something interesting to say."

A scream came instead of an answer; it wasn't Sam's.

"Sam, what…?"

"I'll call you back."

"Sam, wait! Don't-"

Line was already dead.

"Damn it," I punched the steering wheel and pressed down the accelerator. Racing through the empty streets, I focused on getting there first, instead of thinking about what my family could possibly do if I failed in doing so.

Tires screeching, I hit the breaks, jerked the key out of the ignition and ran into the building, blind to everything left or right. My steps echoed from the mouldy walls as I searched for any sign of life.

"Sam?" I breathed.

A scream ripped through the eerie silence, and I only realized it was my own when somebody pushed me against the wall, a hand covering my mouth. "Rachel, it's me."

I looked into Dean's green eyes and pushed him away from me. "You scared the f-ing hell out of me! Where's Sam?"

"The Alpha broke lose, it has to be somewhere around here. We split up, trying to find it."

"The Alpha's lose?" Sheer horror was written on my face, and not because a kill-crazy supercharged vamp was off the leash. "Dean, we have to find it."

"No kidding."

"No, I mean, we have to find it _fast_. 'Cause my parents are looking for it, too, and they have rather nasty plans with the thing. Well, even nastier than what your folks are doing to him." I tugged him along until the corridor split into two, "I'll take this way."

"You're not going after that thing alone."

"You are, why shouldn't I?" I was already around the corner before Dean could protest. I didn't know whether I'd been looking for five minutes or five hours when a step behind me made me whirl around.

"I really didn't want to this, sis, but you're forcing me to."

"Hayden, just put down the gun."

"Sorry, Rachel, can't."

I slowly took a few steps backwards. There was no way I could pull out my own gun, my brother would shoot me before I got the chance. "Why?"

"You chose the wrong team, sis." Hayden's eyes lit up with mania, "Those Winchesters, they work for demons. Your friend Sammy sprung the devil lose, he and his brother broke the damn world. Now they're getting away with that? No. They're dangerous, Rachel."

"The only danger I'm seeing right now is you. What do you want with the Alpha?"

"The story has been written, and it has to end that way."

"Insightful. Subtitles, please."

Hayden looked at me almost pitifully. "Why do you care about him so much, Rachel? He has no soul. He doesn't give a damn about you. If he had the choice between saving you and saving a bus full of strangers, he would chose the strangers over you, because he doesn't feel. While you're willing to sacrifice everything for him, for whatever reason, he wouldn't lift a finger to save you."

"You don't know that," I replied weakly. Fact was, he knew as well as I did that he was right.

"Give it up, Rachel. You'll never be happy again if you stay on the path you're on now. Let me through so Dad, Mom, Karen and I can get the Alpha."

"Why do you want it so bad?"

"It knows things."

"What things?"

"How to open the Cage again. The fight between Lucifer and Michael has to happen."

"Why? What'll that get you? Billions of people will die."

"Probably, yes," Hayden shrugged, "Higher powers are at work here, Rachel."

I shook my head in disbelief. I had always known my family was a bunch of douchebags, but they were outdoing themselves here. "So you're the angels' bitches. Good for you. What did they offer you in return? Why are working for them?"

"Nosy, always so nosy," Hayden sighed. "Now get the hell out of my way, or I swear I'll shoot."

I didn't budge.

"Seriously, sis? Willing to die for soulless Sam?"

"It's none of your business."

Hayden shook his head. "Rachel, I really don't want to hurt you. But if you don't move, I have to shoot. There's a bigger picture here."

I didn't budge.

He shot.

***

"You with me, Dean?"

Dean looked at his brother. He was torn between wanting his Sammy back and the gut-churning feeling that working for a demon caused him. He couldn't work for Crowley. He had done his share of stupid; actually, he'd done enough stupid to fill ten lifetimes. For Sam, he was more than willing to fill another ten, but he could _not_ work for a demon.

A fraction of a memory crossed his mind; the look on Sam's face when he'd jumped into the hole. Jumped into Lucifer's Cage to save him, to save the world they had both broken.

"Yeah. I'm with you," Dean quietly said. The man standing across from him might not be Sam; but he would make sure it would be his Sammy again. He owed him that.

Sam smiled, and it was hard to tell whether it was sincere or not. Hell, was anything sincere about him these days?

"Alright, let's go find Rachel and get out of here," Dean turned towards the exit when a shot echoed through the building.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. They both started running at the same time into the direction the shot had come from.

Sam almost wished he could feel, so that he would know whether he was supposed to be glad that Rachel was still standing – giving her brother a good beating, actually – or shocked at the blood that soaked her shirt.

When her brother was lying on the floor unconscious, his face improved by few notches, Rachel straightened up, holding a hand to her chest. She looked at his motionless body and abruptly collapsed onto the floor beside him.

"Rachel!" Sam crouched down before her.

"Where's…" She coughed, her voice was raspy, "The Alpha?"

"Long story, let's get you out of here first."

"It's not with my family, is it?" Rachel dug her fingers into Sam's shoulder insistently.

"No, demons."

"Huh. Guess that's better still."

"Come on, let's get her to a hospital," Dean urged.

"No, no hospital. It's not that bad, I'll be fine. I just need you to get the bullet out, that's all. We don't need people asking questions."

"Rachel, you're bleeding rivers here."

"Looks worse than it is. Now help me up, we need to get out of here before the rest of my family shows up."

Sam sighed in resignation. Rachel wouldn't let them take her to a hospital, no matter in how much pain she was. But soulless or not, he wouldn't let her endure the pain of walking while she had a bullet in her chest.

"Sam, my legs work fine," Rachel growled when Sam swept her up into his arms and carried her out to their cars.

He ignored her protests. "You're shaking all over. Give me your car keys."

She felt too weak to argue. "They're in my back pocket…" Rachel shifted in Sam's arms to reach there, but he was quicker. Before he sat her down in the passenger's seat, his hand went into said pocked and swiped the key.

"If my arms wouldn't hurt like shit, I'd so slap you for that now."

"There's nothing I haven't already touched, so skip the prudery talk."

Sam shut her door and walked around to the driver's side. "We should drive out of town, find a motel somewhere."

"Yeah, alright, you follow me," Dean got into his Impala, wondering whether he should really leave the bleeding Rachel alone with his brother. At the moment, he doubted Sam would either notice or care if she died under his hands.

When Sam had somehow managed to fit his giant frame into the confining space of Rachel's small car, he was welcomed by a powerful punch in his side. "What was that for?"

"Your tasteless comment."

"Someone woke up on the touchy side of the bed this morning."

"And someone else didn't. Which might be related to the two tiny facts he doesn't feel anything _and_ doesn't sleep."

"I didn't choose this, Rachel."

"Well, neither did I. Could you please get driving?"

The next twenty minutes passed in silence.

"Rachel, I know that it won't mean much since I don't really feel it, but I _am_ sorry that I left. I didn't know Jack died, and I'd like to believe I had stayed if I had known. Of course, I can't really be sure."

Rachel regarded him with an intense look, trying to decipher his expressionless face. It told her nothing. As always. "You know what the worst about it was?"

"No. What?"

Rachel licked her lips, wondering why she felt inclined to share this with Sam, knowing he wouldn't care. "That morning, before the police called and told me about Jack, I was going to call off the wedding."

"What?"

"Yeah," Rachel mumbled, looking absent-mindedly at her bloodied hands, "I realized that despite Jack having been the only stable person in my life, ever, I didn't love him. He wasn't right for me, even though he was perfect. Had he lived, I might have one day grown to live with the guilt of having betrayed him and of breaking up with him on our wedding day. Now that I never got the chance to explain, to never let him know the truth… it makes everything worse."

'That I betrayed him with a man who has no soul doesn't exactly help easing that guilt, either,' Rachel added in thought.

"Should I ever get my soul back somehow, I will try making it up to you, Rachel," Sam quietly said, "But without a soul, I can't get myself to care."

"Yeah, you've made that much clear, Sam. No need to repeat it over and over, I got it the first time." Rachel bit her lip. Every time she heard it from Sam's lips, it drove the knife in her heart a little deeper, twisted it a little further. "So let's just find your soul, alright? After we've patched me up, cause this hurts like crap."

Sam parked her car next to the Impala. While Dean checked into the motel, he opened the passenger's door and leaned down to help Rachel out of the car.

"Sam, I told you that my legs work just fine. Back off." Rachel growled. She tended to get even snappier when she was in pain.

"I swear, you're even more stubborn than Dean."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Rachel mumbled and dragged herself onto the motel bed.

***

I stared up at the ceiling, focussing on the part where the tapestry was peeling off and trying to gather some strength. That gun shot hurt like fucking hell. Next time I saw my brother, I'd be sure to have a firearm loaded and trained to his head.

The bleeding just wouldn't stop. I felt dizzy and weak, but not dizzy enough yet to not notice how Sam sat on the edge of the bed beside me and cut my shirt from my body with a few quick movements. "What the hell?" I shrieked indignantly.

"Don't be a wuss," Sam just said.

"Well, excuse me, but a little warning might be nice." I scooted up on the bed a little so that I leaned against the headrest and could face him.

"Alright. Rachel, I'm going to take that bullet out of your chest now, and for that, I have to get that shirt off," Sam explained with mock patience.

"The second my arm works again, I am so-" I was about to voice a creative death threat when Dean appeared at the other side of me and held out a bottle of painkillers to me.

"Take these."

"Um, I can't."

Sam took his eyes off my torso and looked me into the eyes instead. "Why?"

"Trust me, they work. You'll feel better," Dean held the pills out to me insistently.

"I'm sure, Dean… but I can't take them."

"Oh, wait, you're not a member of that creepy sect, are you?"

"No. That's not it…"

"Then why?"

"Because…" I looked at their questioning faces. Hell, Rachel, you were willing to take a bullet for them but not share one dirty little secret? "Because I don't want to fall into relapse. I take one of those; I'll fall back into very unhealthy habits."

Silence.

"Right," Sam looked at me, at my blood-ushering wound and back at me, "Well, this is going to be painful. So, you want me to knock you out or…"

"Sam. I'm not a damn Disney princess. I can take it. Now take those fucking pliers and get that bullet out of me!"

Sam rolled his eyes, reached for the alcohol and other instruments and set to work.

To say that it was a little uncomfortable having him so close to my heaving breast when I wore nothing but a bra was putting it mildly. But he worked steadily and quick, so that was something.

I blamed the shivers running through me on the cool air, not Sam's hand brushing over my bare skin. "So…" I needed to talk, or I would feel tempted to take those pain killers anyways, "My fam's after the Alphas, too."

"Why?"

"From what I understood, they want the apocalypse back." I sucked in a sharp breath as Sam entered the thin pliers into my shoulder, "And what was all that talk about purgatory?"

Dean glanced at Sam, then he turned his wonderful green eyes on me and told me about their grandfather's deal with Crowley.

"Wow. That sucks. And I thought my family was messed up." I dug my fingers into the ragged covers of the motel bed from pain. I thought my whole torso must explode from agony. "So if Samuel is Crowley's bitch, I think I have a fair guess who my fucked up mess of a family is working for."

"You want some soap to wash out that mouth of yours?"

I was sure that if glares could kill, Dean would drop dead now. "Dean. With all due respect, but you can be – ouch, damnit!"

Sam shrugged carelessly as he extracted the bullet from my gory mess of a shoulder. "Sorry."

"No, you're not."

"I could be."

I shook my head. "Whatever. Anyways, I think my parents joined the cloudy front."

"'scuse me?"

"Angels. I heard my mother say that they need the Alphas to get information on how to open the devil's cage again. Then my crazy son of a bitch of a brother spilt some more details…. Basically, they want to pop the devil back outta the cage and throw him into a ring with Michael. Doesn't sound like something demons would want."

"No, it sounds like something Raphael would want."

"Yeah, but he's a shotgun load of salt at the moment."

"His vessel, anyways. Who knows how long your folks have been working for him."

"Well, Rachel…" Sam started, "I mean, why would your family work for an angel?"

I let out a humourless laugh, "Who knows. My guess? To bring their precious Lucy back."

"They're willing to end the world to get their daughter back?"

"You kidding me? My father was willing to sell my soul for Lucy's once. Didn't work, though."

Sam huffed, "Wow." He poured alcohol onto my wound before starting to stitch me up.

'Ow' was the only word spinning around in my mind in circles right now.

"Alright, can I leave you two alone to get some dinner?"

"Course." I muttered. "Double cheeseburger for me, please. Extra bacon and onion."

Sam shook his head. "You two are like peas in a pod."

Dean left, chuckling to himself, and closed the door behind him just when Sam declared my wound to be patched up.

"Nice work," I admitted. "And… um, thanks."

"Yeah, sure."

He walked into the bathroom to wash my blood off his hands. Trying not to see any symbolism there.

I struggled to stand up and walk over to my stuff to get out a clean shirt. "Hey, Sam…"

"Yeah?"

"While you were living with me, you didn't feel anything, did you? Your soul was already gone?"

"Yes, it was, and no, I didn't feel anything." He leaned against the doorframe and watched me. "Though back then, I think I had just the slightest bit of a conscience left."

"What do you mean?"

"While I was staying with you, I could still differ right from wrong if put my mind to it. Then I found out about Samuel, and ever since I've been hunting with him, I think that little bit of conscience, instinct or whatever it is that makes up a soul disappeared."

I bit my lips, not able to deny the foreboding that I might have saved Sam… that he might have saved himself from losing even that tiny part of himself. If he had just stayed.

"Sam… if you didn't feel anything…Then why…" I wondered how to best phrase this, "Then why did you sleep with me?"

Sam remained completely unmoved.

"If you're going to say that it was because I was convenient, then don't say anything at all, 'cause that's really not what I need to hear."

"No, Rachel, that wasn't the reason. And it wasn't only because you're hot, either," Sam replied evenly and stepped into the room. I let him get so close to me that our bodies nearly touched. "To be honest, I don't know why. Maybe because I thought that if I had my soul, it's what I'd have done… or maybe because I knew that sleeping with you the night before your wedding was exactly something I would definitely _not_ do if I had my soul."

"So, what, I was a test to see whether you were you or not?"

"No, I already knew that I wasn't who I used to be… you…" From the look on Sam's face, he was trying to figure out the right words, as instinct or tact certainly wouldn't tell him what to say. "You were an advantage of not being able to feel guilt, scruples or alike. I mean, you were engaged, you've been Jess' best friend, we were friends and nothing more; you were sweet, unspoilt, respectable… you were basically the one woman I should have stayed away from. But I didn't, and I didn't even feel bad about. I still don't."

I huffed, not knowing what to make of that. "Advantage as in 'convenient, quick and disposable' or advantage as in…"

"As in 'something I really wanted to do and luckily didn't have to care about consequences since I couldn't feel.'"

"Whatever exactly that means," I grumbled, though I was appeased at least a little. The part with the consequences, though: Not true, definitely not. Everything would have been so much easier if I had never slept with Sam.

"Rachel, I'm sorry, I know that it's not what you want to hear."

"Damn straight it isn't," I glared up at him, "It fucking hurts, Sam."

"I thought you said I didn't hurt you?"

"Well, I lied," I snapped. Deciding that now the truth was out, I might as well spill the whole jug: "It hurt like hell. And it still does."

I had sworn myself to never, ever, do it again, but once Sam's lips met mine, all resolution I might have had to never kiss him again went out the window. I let him lay his hands on my hips, pull my body closer to his, I let his tongue dominate mine… I let it all happen, too weak to resist but not weak enough not to participate.

Tears ran over my cheeks. "Sam… please, don't. It only makes it worse."

"Why?"

My little laugh sounded brittle. He really didn't feel anything, had no empathy. "Do you have even the slightest idea how I feel? It's nothing for you, but for me… Damnit, it's like living through it all over! You still don't feel it, Sam. You kiss me, but you don't feel anything for me, while I break apart inside because I know I'm basically replacable. Meaningless."

"You're not meaningless to me, Rachel… it's just…"

"Don't stumble over words you don't understand. Just drop it," I forced a bitter smile onto my lips and stepped back.

"Why do you care so much?"

"I've got my reasons." I turned away, not able to look into his unyielding eyes any longer.

The next second I found myself pressed against the wall and Sam's hand around my neck. I breathed heavily, though he didn't apply pressure – yet – and stared at him in shock, as well as defiance. Maybe I even expressed a little temptation with my eyes, too.

"That's not good enough, Rachel."

"Well, tough, it'll have to do. I'm not sharing and caring with you as long as you don't have a soul! So, let's just get it back, then we can talk about my motives."

Sam didn't move. For minutes, we remained like that; my body trapped between him and the wall, his hand around my throat, a second away from snapping my neck if he wanted to.

Could you have a conscience, could you judge ethically and morally correct when you lacked a soul? I doubted it.

Our lips hovered millimetres away from each other. I could feel Sam's breath on my cheek, steady like his heartbeat drumming against my chest.

We might have remained like that forever, if the key turning in the lock wouldn't have made Sam step back, slowly easing his grip on me. His hand slid down my throat, over my collarbone and clavicle, as if he didn't truly wish to release me.

Dean looked at us, and I was sure he sensed the tension in the air as well as the subliminal sexual edge to it. "Everything okay here?"

"Yeah, fine."

**Longest Chapter yet! Special thanks to niknakz93 for her continuous support and CherryMae for her great feedback! :)**

**Hope you all enjoyed! **


	8. Raging Revelations

"Are you sure that this is a werewolf? The lunar circle ain't right."

"No, but then again, if it's the Alpha, normal rules don't apply."

"You know," I got up, suppressed a groan at the sharp shot of pain surging through my torso, "I've been thinking about this Alpha business…"

"That doesn't sound good."

I rolled my eyes at the older Winchester brother. "Look, my family won't stop until they get what they want, and they're four while there are only three of us. Not counting my aunt and uncle."

"Great, even more crazy Blacks."

"Yeah, and they're not far behind on the ruthlessness scale. If they're still alive and haven't blessed us by their passing yet."

"What are you aiming at?"

"We've got competing goals here; we both want the Alphas, but for different reasons. My family gets them, it might lead to the end of days, and we won't get any closer to getting Sam's soul. We need to know where purgatory is, we need to deliver those Alphas to Crowley. My family gets in the way of that."

"Wait, wait, are you suggesting… are you saying you want to kill your family?"

"Apart from the fact that yes, I really want them dead, no, that's not quite what I mean. Having them behind bars should be sufficient."

"What if they talk and deliver us to the cops, too?"

"Good point." I took a big gulp of coffee. "Okay, back to the killing plan, then."

"Rachel! You can't seriously-"

"What? I can't seriously _what_?"

"You lost your soul, too? Look, I get you hate your family, I mean, they're grade A douches. But they're human, we can't kill them."

"It's either that, or Apocalypse reloaded and no soul for Sam."

"Come on-"

"Dean. Do you think that stupid, 'blind to risk' stubbornness just fell down on me? I got it from somewhere. I'm telling you, my family won't stop until they've got every Alpha delivered to the Angels. Which means, no Alpha for Crowley, which in turn means no soul for Sam."

Dean threw his hands up helplessly.

"I'm just saying that we should give Crowley what he wants fast. If my parents and siblings should decide to get in the way and you get a good shot, take it."

"You're seriously damaged, you know that?"

"She's right, though, Dean."

"I'm not asking you, Sam."

I shrugged. I knew that by propositioning killing my own family, I had lost some inches of trust on Dean's scale, but I needed them to see the threat my family posed. And I needed them to know that I was okay with them possibly ending up dead.

"Alright, well, we should bag that Alpha werewolf before your folks get here then, I suppose. Rachel, you stay here, see if you can find out anything else."

"Like what?"

"Anything."

I rolled my eyes. "Geez, at least, have a decent cover story ready when you want to tell me you don't think I'm ready for field work."

Sullenly, though knowing I really was in no shape to be actively hunting, I watched them trail out the room, then I grabbed my laptop and hopped onto the bed. Well, rather cautiously laid down than hopped, since that would have hurt like hell.

"No way this is a werewolf," I muttered to myself. "But they can find that out on their own."

I opened a browser and entered 'Soul rescue' into the search bar.

Great. A dozen hits on some anime series. Followed by some crappy psychic websites, offering to help people find their 'earthbound spirits'.

Give me a break.

Alright. Try 'Soul saving'.

Gee, even worse. Fractions of prayers, some stuff about Jesus' blood saving souls… Oh, wait. Maybe… no, that wouldn't work. I wasn't big on the bible story, but I was pretty sure Jesus was already dead and could no longer bleed.

I sighed, switched on the TV for background sound and reached for another cup of coffee.

'Missing soul' got me a couple of artsy websites, but no information.

'Broken Soul' apparently was some metal band.

'Soul in hell' got me a letter from a crazy nun, a hard rock café somewhere and a song. Geez, people were damaged; they toyed with expressions like hell and soul, but they had not the faintest idea what the real thing was like.

Another, not so supportive, website claimed there was no such thing as an immortal soul.

Great. Not helping.

I was running out of ideas. I rubbed my eyes and put away my laptop, instead focused on the movie. I faintly recalled that scene to be out of 'The Notebook', quite a good movie. I watched for a while, until commercials came on.

I got up to go to the bathroom, and came back to a Barnes&Noble ad praising the latest edition of Emily Bronte's 'Wuthering Heights', special offer, blah, blah, blah.

"Yeah, yeah, get back to the movie," I muttered.

Though, when the movie did come back on, my mind was rattling through the plot of 'Wuthering Heights'. When I had read it a long time ago, I hadn't been sure what to think about it. On the one hand, I had admired Heathcliff's and Catherine's all-defying love, but then again I had detested how abusive and unforgiving it was (yeah, I know, look who's talking. I was quick to judge others on their unhealthy love relationships, but I failed to see my own).

When I had closed that book, I had been left wondering what the hell those two had found in each other.

Following a strange instinct after I discovered certain parallels to my own life, I typed 'Wuthering Heights summary' into the search bar, and after that, 'Wuthering Heights reviews'.

I looked up to the TV again, just in time to see the kiss in the rain. And something dawned on me.

The internet couldn't help me with that, I wasn't in for another round of 'psychic assistance' crap.

"Castiel?" I called out tentatively. God help me that I called out to an angel, but from what I understood from Sam and Dean, Castiel was somewhat different. It was worth a try.

0o0

"Rachel's hiding something."

"No kidding."

"No, man, I mean, _really_ hiding. Something she couldn't even tell me when I was under that truth curse."

"Sounds nasty."

"What if she's just pretending to help us and really just wants to stab us in the back? It wouldn't be the first time that happened." Dean said that last part with a burning side-glance at his brother.

"No," Sam shot back, "Rachel's not like that."

"You seem pretty sure. Need I remind you that you have no instinct whatsoever?"

"I know, Dean, but with Rachel… I can just tell she's not lying, alright?"

"Huh."

"What?"

"It's a step."

"Towards what?"

"Your soul."

0o0

"You called?"

I jumped and whirled around, something I should rather not have done, as my shoulder kindly told me. "Castiel?"

"Hello, Rachel."

"Oh, um, hi." I was still surprised that it had worked, and that apparently, not every angel wanted me dead.

"You don't need to be afraid, I am not going to hurt you."

"I wouldn't have called you had I been worried you'd kill me," I replied with more bravado than I really felt.

"If it comforts you to believe that."

'Gee, the only one who can help me is a smart-ass angel, great,' I rolled my eyes. "Anyways, I called because of Sam…You're the only one I could think of who might know about this kind of stuff."

"What is it that you are referring to?"

"Will you promise me not to say any of this to either Sam or Dean?"

The angel looked at me with such an intensity in his blue eyes that I almost crumbled. "Yes."

"Well, you see… ever since Sam came back into my life, I've felt this weird… _need_… to be with him. I can't explain it, and I don't know why. God knows I've been hurt enough already and don't need to feel something like that for Mr Soulless, but... well, that's the way it is, and I haven't found out how to stop it so far. Now, with that whole soul-business going on and such…"

"What you feel for Sam, is it more like a feeling of _be_longing or longing?"

"Huh?"

"Do you wish to be with him because it makes you feel safe, protected, or because you desire him physically?"

"Er… not that I'd say 'protected and safe' are words I'd use to describe how anyone feels around Sam at the moment, but…I dunno? Both, kind of?" Wow, this was way too close to sitting on Freud's couch for my comfort.

"Have you felt that way when you were at Stanford together?"

I flicked through memories, searched for hints and tried recalling how I felt for Sam years ago. So much has happened; my memories were clouded, if not tainted. "No, I don't think so."

"Are you certain?"

_Party at Ellie's. Sam and I, standing in her kitchen while people were getting drunk in the living room__, out on the porch and in the garden. Jess somewhere else, just the two of us, there, alone together despite the fifty people outside._

"_So apparently I'm not the only person here who is very attached to her brain cells," I had raised an eyebrow, smiled at him and tossed him a soda before opening one for myself. _

"_Honestly, I would have put you with them," Sam had nudged his head in the direction of the howling crowd. _

"_Yeah, __most people would have. But… I'm not comfortable with losing eyesight, balance and control around people I don't trust." _

"_You don't trust your friends?" _

"_I have trust issues, I'm not afraid of admitting that. I love them all, I really do… but, still, it's like I will never fit in completely with them," I had drawn meaningless patterns onto the kitchen table with my hand, not knowing why I had shared as much about myself as never before. _

_Sam, his hand reaching out to cover mine in a comforting grip, my gaze getting lost in his hazel eyes. "Some people maybe were never meant to fit in." _

_Me, not removing my hand and not even realizing it was my best friend's boyfriend's on top of it. "Sometimes I wish that I had just one person who made me feel home." _

_Sam's eyes. __That zooming feeling, shooting from heart to head to toe. _

_Me, shaking my head, ignoring it, not knowing what it was and not really caring then. _

"_I'm sure you'll find him one day."_

I looked at Castiel. Stuttering because I was lost for words, I choked out: "I, um, well, actually, I think there might have been… that moment, when…"

"Yes, I thought so," Castiel sighed.

"Cass, what I meant to say before was… if souls really exist…what about soul mates?" There, I said it. I said it out loud, that suspicion of mine that had crawled my skin like a dark premonition for a while now.

I was scared of Castiel's answer. Really scared. Like 'stuck in a room so small you're touching wall and ceiling without moving' scared.

"Soul mates exist. It's rare and yet not uncommon that two souls are connected to each other, unbreakably and forever. Only soul mates are allowed to share a heaven together, and the connection of two spirits is one of the most powerful forces in existence."

"And, um…"

"From what you've told me, I daresay it is a possibility that Sam is your soul mate. You might be able to call his soul."

"Great, well, the problem about that is that Sam's soul is currently downstairs in hell, and they have no cell reception there."

The angel scrutinized me, again with that intense look. "How much pain are you willing to suffer for Sam's sake?"

"Excuse me?" I backed away from the angel until my back collided with the wall.

"There is only one way to find out whether your and Sam's soul are connected. I have to read your soul."

"I take it you don't mean flipping through a heavenly handbook?"

"No. The reading will be excruciating."

"Awesome, just great." Why should this be any different from the rest of my life?

"Nobody will force you to do this Rachel."

"Maybe not, but I still have to. Look, if there's any way that this will help us get Sam's soul back, then I am going to do it."

"Your bravery is admirable. Now, let me heal you first."

"Huh?" Before I realized he'd moved, Castiel had laid a hand onto my shoulder. A second later, the pain as well as the wound was gone. "Well, that's handy."

"You might want to lie down for this."

"Um, exactly what are you going to do with me?" I asked suspiciously; after finding out I'd slept with Lucifer's soulless, demon-blood-infected vessel, romping with an angel really was the last thing on my to-do list. I was still suffering from the aftermath of that, no need to add another.

"Reach into your soul."

"Right." What exactly did an angel define as 'excruciating'? I was kind of scared of finding out.

"While I'm decoding your soul, you might catch glimpses of Sam's soul, if you really are his soul mate."

There was a warning and apologetic undertone to the angel's voice that I didn't like. "Meaning?"

The angel just looked at me, making it obvious he wouldn't tell me. "You are sure you want to do this?"

"Yes. God help me, but yes."

Castiel nodded slowly, laid his hand onto my stomach, and then my vision blurred as I drowned in an ocean of pain. I didn't know if I screamed or not, because I wasn't part of this reality anymore.

The pain remained, but it changed; it wasn't physical anymore. I could no longer feel the acid fire burning in my veins, but I was now engulfed in such horror and grief that I didn't even know the term of happiness.

Blackness, but fires burning. Screams, taunts, torture and pain – it was everywhere. No light but hellfire was to be seen anywhere. There were no borders, no end in sight, but at the same time, it was too confined, it took the air out of me had there been any air to breathe at all.

Suffocating, but not dying.

Drowning, but not dying.

Burning, but not dying.

Dying, but not escaping.

Next thing I realized was my throat raw from sobbing and screaming, my muscles feeling weak and numb and no hope to be found.

"Rachel?"

I looked into the angel's eyes, and I slowly found back into this world. I was okay – but Sam wasn't.

"What did you see?"

I had to swallow a couple of times before my vocal chords allowed me to answer: "Hell. Lucifer's Cage. I was down there, Cass, I saw it all…"

Castiel handed me a glass of water, a strangely considerate action. "That's because Sam's soul is down there."

"So, it's true… we're soul mates?"

"Yes. I found the mark on your soul, and it links you to Sam's."

"Great," I rubbed my hands over my face, brought my knees up before me and leaned against the head rest. I was too worn out to bother processing this information right now. "So, what now? What does that mean?"

"I'm not sure."

I nodded, still not completely consciously in this world. "Cass…" I started quietly and turned my eyes on him. "Will Sam's soul remember the Cage?"

"Yes."

"Then we can't bring it back. Sam's going to break apart over it. Cass, what I've seen down there in just these few moments… it's beyond words. Nobody survives that, nobody can stay sane and whole over that."

'But we can't leave Sam's soul down there, either,' I thought.

"I…" Cass was interrupted by the unmistakeable sound of the Impala roaring outside. "I'll stay in touch."

With that, he was gone, just as Dean came in, alone.

"So, what'd you find?"

"Nothing at the crime scene. Sam stayed to keep an eye on Amanda," Dean tossed his keys onto the table and took off his jacket. "You find anything?"

'Apart from that I'm your brother's soul mate and that even if we get his soul back from hell, he'll be a broken mess? No.'

I groaned and, for the first time in many years, I longed for the relief drugs had given me. I was almost glad there was so much going on, because I was on the verge of a complete breakdown and the only thing keeping me going was this job.

I was like a bloodhound that had caught a trail, followed it to the point of exhaustion and hadn't reached the end of it yet, but wasn't going to give up.

"No, nothing new…"

Dean turned and looked at me. "You sure? 'Cause you look terrible. Daytime TV that bad?" Something in the light way he said that last part led me to believe he knew full well that something worse than a crappy TV programme had happened.

"Yeah, right, I wish."

"Rachel, I've had it."

"With what?"

"Your damn secrets!"

"You have no right to know everything about me," I said coldly and got up. My legs protested at the weight put on them. To be honest, my whole body didn't approve of being moved; I felt as if run over by a truck after I'd fallen down from a 20-story building.

"I don't want to know everything, Rachel. I don't care what your favourite colour is or who your first love was, I just want to know why the hell you've ditched everything you built up over the past years just to save Sam's soul. Because for all I know, you work for a demon or angel or whatever, and you're just exceptionally good at deceiving us. You don't know Sam, you haven't known him in a long time, so you can't tell me it's because you care about him that you're helping us."

"Look, Dean, I get that with what happened with Ruby and such you're not exactly inclined to trust me-"

"Yeah, damn straight I'm not. Look, Rachel, you're a nice girl and all. But I can't risk anybody screwing up here. This is about my brother's soul. I want Sam back, and I am going to get him back. For that, I can't have people working with me who might turn out being an obstacle to that. I can't have anyone messing it up."

My heart tightened at Dean's speech; I wished my own brother had talked this passionately about me just once in his life. "I'm the last one who will get in the way of that, Dean…" I whispered weakly.

"So you keep on saying, but give me one good reason to believe you!"

I looked at his blazing eyes, blazing with determination to get Sam's soul back and with the hidden pain of everything he had had to suffer. Dean deserved so much better than all this…

"She's his soul mate."

Both Dean and I turned our heads to look at Castiel.

"Cass, you promised me you wouldn't-"

"Wait, wait, wait – soul mate?"

I buried my face in my hands; I had no control over my own life these days.

'Just one pill, one tiny pill to ease this hammering in my head…'

"Rachel!"

My head jerked up. I zoomed back in and focused on Dean. From the insistency in Dean's eyes I figured he'd called my name a few times before. "Yeah."

"What Cass told me, that's all true?"

"Yeah. Every last bit."

Dean nodded slowly. Was it just me or had he aged another five years these past two minutes? "So even if we do get his soul back, there won't be much of Sammy left…"

"Souls have memories, Dean, but those memories, even we angels cannot erase. Consider a soul to be a logbook of your life. It records your memories, your feelings. It's your conscience and heart in one. Basically it's the essence of you."

"Yeah, I figured that from Sam's missing one, thanks. Now what's that with soul mates?"

"Soul mates are two souls linked to each other, they're more or less mirror images of another. One soul needs the other, they complete each other."

"And what if one soul's gone?" I asked.

"I believe you know what that feels like, Rachel."

I buried my face on my knees, wrapped my arms around my legs and wished for this coldness to go away. I'd been holding this emptiness, this lack of hope and despair at bay so far, but now the dam had been broken.

How was I supposed to pull Sam and myself together, how was I supposed to fix this if I wasn't even able to fix myself? What little I had seen of hell, it had been too much already. Probably Sam was a lot stronger than me, but even he could not take having his hell-tortured soul back.

"So what should we do, just let Sam's soul rot down there while we keep hanging out with robo-Sam?"

"There is one more thing you should know about souls, Dean."

"And what's that?"

"There's an unbreakable bond between a soul and its belonging body. Even the forces of hell cannot break that bond."

I found Castiel's voice soothing, like a breath of silk on torn skin.

"That bond is the reason why you feel attracted to him despite his actual soul being in hell," Castiel added quietly in my direction.

"So… So you're saying that there's still a microscopic part of Sam in him?"

"Technically, yes. As long as he doesn't acknowledge it, it will be useless. Once Sam finds that piece of his soul, though, he might be able to pull his complete soul back. Sam has to want it, though, else it will not work. But I do not wish to give you any false hopes, Dean. Escaping from Lucifer's Cage is as good as impossible. Yet, it wouldn't be the first time you two surprised me."

Castiel was gone again, leaving me and Dean wondering if a decent goodbye hurt angels or why else they just disappeared without warning.

"So, soul mates."

"Dean, I swear, if I hear that expression just one more time today, I'll go berserk, fair warning."

"Did you come up with that or Cass?"

I cuddled into the bed, pulling the covers over my body in a futile attempt to chase away the coldness. "I did. I kind of had a feeling for a long time, and then I saw 'The Notebook' and an ad for 'Wuthering Heights' and it set me thinking. _Don't_ even say it."

"I wasn't going to," Dean scoffed and held up his hands innocently. "Look, Ral, I'm sorry… I've given you a hard time, and you didn't deserve that. I mean, not everybody's willing to let herself get soul-read for my soulless brother…"

"Dean, it's okay, really. If I were you, I wouldn't have trusted me, either, and I get that you want what's best for Sam. He's your brother, you've practically been with him your whole life while I had three innocent years at Stanford with him… and three not so innocent weeks, I'm willing to admit that, but you get what I mean."

Dean smiled one-sidedly at me and sat down on the edge of the bed opposite of mine. "Hey, Ral…"

"Yeah?"

"What's it feel like, missing your soul ma- well, you-know-what?"

"Honestly? It's not so much that you feel any different, I mean, you don't see me sitting in a silent corner all day weeping – but it's rather that you know you'll never belong, never feel safe, never feel at home. And that's a thousand times worse."

"You know…" Dean rested his arms on his knees, his gaze wandered off into the distance, "I'm not even sure I want Sam to have his soul back. It sounds horrible and I hate myself for saying it, but…"

"But you're scared he won't be Sam even with his soul. Because of what's happened to him downstairs. Yeah, I know," I took a deep breath, "But we can't let his soul burn eternally, either."

"You think we could get Sam to want his soul back so bad that he pulls himself out of the fire?"

"I like to believe we can. But, Dean… how do we get somebody to care about himself who doesn't feel anything?"

"Well… some part of his soul's in there somewhere. We just somehow have to reach that part of him."

"You make it sound sooo easy," I sat up, despite my protesting body, "Look, we have no idea which trigger to pull. Which angle to take. What exactly will get Sam to care? Not you, not me, obviously, so who does that leave?"

Dean didn't move for a second, then he tilted his head slightly sideward, like people do who have a epiphany dawning on them. "That's not entirely true."

"It isn't? Dean, I've been shot, you've been turned into a freaking vampire, and Sam didn't blink. If either of that doesn't punch his last remaining soul bits, then what will?"

"You."

"I've just said-"

"Maybe. Just go with me on this one, Rachel."

"What's your point?"

"If anyone can save Sam, you can – because you're the only one right now who can get him to care. I don't know how yet, but somehow, we'll do this, okay?"

"Think we'll really be doing Sam a favour?"

"We'll never know if we don't try."

"In the end, it'll all be up to him, anyways."

"Let's just cross that bridge once we get there."

"That doesn't sound comforting, but hell, what does these days."

Hope had rid Dean of a few years on his face again. I just hoped it wouldn't be disappointed… for his sake as well as mine as well as Sam's.

I fell back into the pillows. Already half asleep, but probably more lucid than in waking state, I mumbled: "Dean, promise me something, please…"

"What?"

"Watch out for me. I'm appearing more stable than I really am, it's a shield I build up, I always do when I'm hunting… but it's fragile, too fragile. If I reach for pills or drugs again, I need you to stop me, whatever it takes."

Dean's reply only took two seconds. "I promise."

I fell asleep with the faint sensation of a hand brushing over my hair.

When I awoke sometime around nine in the morning, my tiredness had mostly gone, but the ache in my whole body and confusion had remained.

For a glorious second, I believed everything that had happened had been just a dream; that in reality, I wasn't bound to Sam's soul, which, inconveniently, currently resided in hell.

Then longing kicked in, longing for Sam.

"So much for me being an independent, emancipated and unaffiliated woman," I groaned and lugged myself under the shower.

As I slowly started to feel a little better, I felt how anger bubbled up. Anger at destiny; or God, or whatever had marked my soul. How dare it tell me who to love, who to be happy with?

Had it killed Jack to get him out of the way, because he kept me from Sam?

No, I answered myself, Jack hadn't gotten in the way. I'd been ready to leave him. Had Sam asked me that morning if I wanted to marry _him_, I would have said yes in a heartbeat.

"Rachel, you really need to rethink your prey-pattern," I concluded as I got dressed, "Unstable, soulless hunters most definitely aren't what Walt Disney described as the prince in shining armour."

Though I had to admit they looked a hell of a lot better.

I flexed my numb muscles, wondering when the aftermath of a soul-reading would wear off.

It would, eventually, but the void inside of me would stay.

I looked at the person staring back at me in the mirror as I applied mascara. The fine, darker circle around the silver iris had gotten darker, making the slate colour of my eyes stand out even more prominently.

Said eyes glanced at the orange bottle standing on the sink. It hovered there, like a promise.

'_Just one little pill to ease the pain…_'

I took a deep breath, biting my tongue in an attempt to ignore the rush of my blood calling to me. I was a vampire; those pain killers were human blood bags that just had to be plucked like apples from a tree.

Memories – of hell, of my past, of my whole damn life, of everything that had gone wrong – and fears – of what would still go wrong, of what my soul connection to Sam meant, the hopelessness of this whole mess - pressing down on me like walls coming closer. The need to breathe.

Before I truly realized what I was doing, my hand closed around the bottle, shaky fingers unscrewed the lid.

'No, no, all wrong, all wrong…!' Sense screamed out to me.

'It's okay, just one, just one to calm down. Just one. Not that bad.'

Flittering nerves calming down, a smile lighting up my face as I felt the pill slowly run down my throat. Then another. A third one.

It didn't take long for the desired effect to kick in. Not only did my body feel better – comfortably numb – but also did the whole situation not seem so horribly hopeless anymore. Oblivious, traitorous hope filled me and made the day shine a shade brighter. I stepped out of the bathroom with my happiness level risen from the minus thousands to a positive ten.

A note on the table caught my attention.

'_Ral, it's not the Alpha werewolf, it's a skin walker. Went to get him with Sam, be back soon_.'

"I told you so ever," I muttered. I took a pen and scribbled on the other side: '_Alright, I'll try catch a lead on another Alpha. I'll call._'

I slipped on my leather jacket and left the motel, heading to Buffalo's public library. Sitting in front of one of the computers there I wondered if Sam could really pull his soul back on his own. Would the demon Crowley just let it escape the Cage? I somehow doubted it.

So, for the time being, we would have to stick to the Alpha plan.

'I don't like this plan, and I don't like working for or even with a damn demon,' I grumbled to myself.

_You could work faster if you just found something better than those__ meagre pain killers_. Something better.

Violently I shook my head; no, I couldn't give in. Not again. A small, smarter part of my brain knew it was already too late. My addiction had gotten the better of me and would hold me tightly in its grasp.

For now, though, I had something to do and therewith something to keep my mind off my threatening relapse.

I opened 'Arc Mobile' and typed in Hayden's number. Nothing.

'Come on, bro, seriously?' I gave an inward sigh and tried Karen's, then my parents' numbers, all to no avail.

'Fine, be that way, geez,' I grumbled to myself and went for their other numbers. I was going for Karen's third number when it finally found a match. 'You should have known better, Karen. I remember every number, bitch.'

I tracked my mother's third phone just to be sure, and as a matter of fact, both were located in Maine.

Then I checked local newspapers for anything strange, and indeed there were lots of articles to be found on several women being found dead; no wounds, all were young and healthy – at least, up to the point of their death. The autopsy reports (for which I had to hack into the police's data base, but that was a cakewalk) named 'multiple organ failure' as the cause of death of each of the six women, who were aged between 25 and 35. No age for organs to fail.

I shook my head, "Ladies, ladies, not every good looking man is worth it, believe me."

I made a quick detour over a diner around the corner and got a coffee to go in the faint hope it would supply me with the energy I craved before I called Dean. I wasn't feeling ready yet to hear Sam's voice, not after last night's revelations.

"Did you get the skin walker?"

"Yeah, smoked out the whole pack just now… but no Alpha."

"Whole pack? How many were there?"

"Five, seven, something like that. Either way, they're puppy chow. What are you up to?"

"Found something, might be Alpha-related. Where are you guys now?"

"The park."

"Walking your dog?" I grinned.

"Hilarious."

"Alright, I'll meet you there in five."

0o0

"Was that Rachel?"

"Yeah, she found something and is gonna meet us here."

"So… you trust her now?"

Dean looked at his brother, trying to make out what he was thinking. It had hurt to hear his brother didn't care about him, or anyone for that matter, but then again, Dean had suspected something along those lines already.

Sam wanted his soul back, and that was a start. Rachel was, so far, the only thing Sam had ever shown something resembling instinct about, so Dean figured she was his weak spot, the one he had to hit to make Sam want his soul back so badly he'd pull it out of hell himself.

God knew it would be hard, if not impossible.

"No," Dean lied, "I don't. But I think she's useful."

"For what?"

'Getting your soul back without working for Crowley,' Dean thought, but said: "To get Alphas, which we will give over to Crowley, who will then give you your soul back."

"Am I interrupting anything here?" Rachel asked cheerfully and let herself fall down next to Sam, who looked surprised at her cheery mood.

Dean looked right through her; it was all a fake. Subliminal 'I am totally freaking out here' vibes were radiating off her in almost visible waves, but of course, Sam wouldn't notice.

Rachel was like Dean in a lot of ways, false bravado being one of them, focussing on the job instead of worrying about what really bothered her another.

Yet, something about her fake cheery mode was fake.

Dean frowned, wondering what it was that seemed different about Rachel. It wasn't anything good, that much he knew.

"So, I think I caught a trail of an Alpha in Portland, Maine."

"What kind of an Alpha?"

"Well, you two will be thrilled, because it will be an absolutely low-risk hunt for you and include saving pretty young women."

Both brothers raised their eyebrows appreciatively in perfect synchrony; it would have made Rachel laugh if there hadn't been that annoying stinging in her heart.

"Several women, all somewhere between 25 and 35, were found dead, cause of death was multiple organ failure. Basically, they died of old age. Four of these six women were not found in their homes but rather in a motel room, despite them having a loving husband waiting at home," Rachel cocked an eyebrow and her voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"Incubus?"

"Yup, that'd be my guess," Rachel nodded, "I mean, the M.O. fits perfectly, so does the manner of death. 'Course, _normally_, one night with an incubus doesn't kill you, but if it's the Alpha…"

"How'd you find that out, anyways?"

"Jesus spoke to me and set me on the right path," Rachel replied with snapping sweetness. "How do you think, Sam? I went through several newspapers and filtered them for strange deaths and so on."

"Right. And you just happened to stumble right on to an Alpha somewhere in Maine."

"It ain't that far away, you geographic genius," Rachel stood up, "So, we're gonna go or not?"

"Sure, right after you told us how you really stumbled onto that case."

Rachel regarded Sam with an indecipherable look, and for a second, it seemed as if she'd snap something witty and move on, but her lips curved into a smile. "Is that instinct I sense kicking in, Sam?"

He just bored his eyes into hers, which chilled and warmed Rachel at the same time.

"Alright, so maybe I tracked my family's cell phones, found out they were in Maine and _then_ checked local newspapers. So I figure we best get moving before they catch it."

0o0

My head was swimming, and I would have crashed the car on the way to Portland if it hadn't been for my autopilot. It made me stop at red lights, drive at green, look left, look right, hit the breaks, then the accelerator…

Sam needed his soul back fast – because I wouldn't be able to take it much longer being without him. It would break my heart and my soul if I couldn't be with Sam soon; I was reaching my limits of what I could take. Hell, I had already passed my limit.

Having him look at me blankly, as if were just a person among many, knowing that kissing me, sleeping with me meant nothing to him, knowing he might never care about me while I was willing to sacrifice everything for him – I don't think any person could stand that over the long hold.

And I had been living with it for a year now, if only subconsciously.

We'd been hunting together for a few weeks now, and if I had to witness Sam pick up a pretty waitress just one more time, I'd break down or run amok, maybe both.

Was I strong enough a motivator for him to want his soul back? So far, all arrows pointed towards 'no'.

'Stop thinking about it, Rachel, it'll drive you nuts, if it hasn't already.'

I saw the Impala turn left to a motel. While waiting at a red light before I could follow them, I reached into my glove compartment and pulled out the little plastic bag with the tiny, multi-coloured pills.

I had skipped dinner last night and instead set out to find a dealer. No soft way of phrasing it. I had convinced myself that it was 'just in case'; that I didn't intend actually swallowing any of this drug cocktail. Over the years, I had become frighteningly good at deceiving myself.

Before the light switched back to green, I had stored the tiny plastic bag back into the compartment, missing two pieces.

I let out a relieved sigh when I felt them filling the emptiness. With a smile, I followed the brothers into the motel room. Had I really been worried of being in one room with Sam, my alleged soul mate? Had I really just been scared of how easily he was hurting me with his lack of a soul?

Pathetic. I was fine without him. Better than I would be with him.

"Alright, you two talk to the husbands, I'll go and see if the coroner's found anything else," Dean said, already unpacking his suit.

I narrowed my eyes, but didn't say anything. Was he trying to provoke Sam or me by throwing us together? Either way, no point in arguing.

"You okay?" Dean asked.

"Perfect. Why wouldn't I be?" I beamed and headed into the bathroom to get changed. "Let's hunt this alpha down."

'Get help, Rachel, get help before it's too late…!' That annoying voice screamed inside my head. I did what I always did: I ignored it.

"What would drive these women to risk their marriage for one night?" Sam mused as he parked my car at the side of the road. It was an apple-pie neighbourhood, to say the least; it seemed more like a cream gateau area to me. Pompous villas, manicured lawns, not one leaf on the pavement.

It screamed 'creepy' all over.

"Well, let's find out," I replied quietly. I had a fair guess what made these women go home with a handsome stranger.

"Mr Diver? Agent Turner and Agent Austen, FBI. We're here about your wife. May we come in?"

The man who'd opened the door of the two story mansion regarded us and our badges with a quick look. He looked to be around 40 years old, and it was obvious life had been kind to him. The fact his wife was dead hadn't seemed to be able of having changed that.

What a douchebag.

"Sure, come in. How come the FBI is investigating? The coroner told me it was a rare disease that killed my wife."

'My wife', not 'Drew'. What a damn douchebag.

"Well, we aren't so sure," Sam replied coolly and sat down on the couch.

A woman entered the room, apparently the maid. She was young and pretty; I was willing to bet Jim Diver has an affair with her. "Can I get you anything?"

"No, thanks," Sam and I replied in unison.

"Thanks, Denise." Mr Diver smiled and waved her out of the room.

"Did you and your wife lead a happy marriage?" I asked, a little more sharply than I had intended. For one: I could feel the drugs wearing off, and I felt myself falling off the blissful cloud they'd catapulted me on. For another: It was obvious Drew Diver hadn't been happy; from the cold interior of this house to the egocentric attitude of Jim Diver everything spoke for Drew having been a trophy wife trapped in a loveless marriage.

"Excuse me? Are you – are you indicating I might have had something to do with my wife's death?"

"Do you?"

"What- no, of course not! How dare you assume that!"

"Mr Diver, Drew was found in a motel room, no signs of assault, so she wasn't kidnapped. Any idea how she might have ended up there, another man's DNA on her?"

I didn't give him a chance to reply to Sam's question. "Drew was lonely. She spent the night before her death with someone else, because she stopped being happy with you long time ago, if she ever was."

"I forbid you-"

I leaned forwards daringly. "Whoever Drew was with that night was the one who killed her. Now, do you have any idea who that man might be? Or did you care so little about your wife that you didn't even notice her being gone, how she didn't come home at night because you were up banging the maid?"

I felt Sam's hand on my shoulder, gently pushing me back and keeping me from lunging at the heartless bastard in front of me. He could have saved his wife, if he'd bothered to notice that she didn't come home – he could have called the police in time to keep Drew from sleeping with the Alpha incubus and having him suck every last bit of life force out of her.

"We've got everything we need." Sam got up and tugged me along.

"Let. Me. Go." I growled and ripped my arm free of his grip when we were out on the porch.

"Calm down, Rachel. What's gotten into you?"

I shook my head and walked towards my car. "Let's go check out the crime scene before we interview the other husbands."

Sam sighed, but didn't press the matter. "You do realize that the husbands have nothing to do with it, right?"

I scoffed. "Yeah, right. You think that these women would have gone out and slept with a practical stranger if they were happily married? The incubus offered them what they lacked at home: appreciation, understanding… I'm betting that his good looks didn't hurt his case, either. I understand these women, and I don't blame them. It was just too bad that they didn't realize that the guy they were willing to give up their marriage for was their death sentence." I got out and slammed the door shut, marched towards the motel briskly and asked what room Drew Diver had been found in.

"Something you're trying to tell me?" Sam asked as I unlocked the door to room number six. The hotel manager had said he had cleaned the room but wasn't allowed to rent it yet, as the police had said they might still need to check it again for evidence. Suited me perfectly.

I shot Sam a piqued look, opened the door and closed it again behind us. "No. Why, you feel addressed?"

"Are you sure you're not seeing this case a little personal?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well, maybe you can relate to the victims…"

I huffed, "You know what? I do relate to them. I was ready to risk everything for one night, too, and I did, and I lost everything. I kept my life, alright, but believe me, Sam, I'd choose an Alpha incubus over a soulless man any day. At least, he kills you immediately and doesn't make you suffer."

With that, I ended that topic, not willing to talk about it any more than I already did. I knelt down before the bed and cursed the damn formal clothing I had to wear. My skirt skidded up to reveal more than half my upper thighs as I leaned down to check under the bed. "Found something," I grunted and straightened back up, dusting off my knees.

When I looked up, I found myself locked in a hungry kiss.

Oh, God, please, no… I so didn't feel strong enough to resist him again. Yet, if I let him persuade me once again, I would fall even deeper into the emptiness afterwards.

But, God help me, I wanted him. Wanted him to fill that void inside of me for just a little while.

"Sam, I thought we already sorted out that this is not helping."

"It doesn't do any harm, either," He kissed me again, his hands trailed down my neck and started unbuttoning my blouse.

"For you it might not," I managed to break our kiss, despite wanting nothing more than continue, "But, Sam… I can't… Not again. Not while I know that you don't feel it."

"Trust me, Ral, I feel it…" He murmured hoarsely into my ear. I could feel his 'feeling', too, pressing against my hip.

"Lust doesn't count as a feeling, Sam." At least, not the one I wanted from him.

"We could consider it a start, though." He pushed the blouse down my arms, buried a hand in my hair and crushed his lips on mine. I might have escaped his firm hold on me, might have been able to tear my head away… but after struggling to keep sane over the fact that the man I loved didn't feel a thing for me for a year now, I didn't have the strength. In fact, I believed that what I got now might be the only thing I'd ever receive from him.

Yet, my pride pounded against my skull and reminded me it was hurt and wouldn't be appeased so easily.

I pushed Sam away, glaring at him. "If you think I am that easy to get, you're damn mistaken."

"Am I?" Sam didn't seem impressed. He closed the distance between us and trailed a hand over my shoulder, down my collarbone and the valley between my breasts.

I did my best to keep my breathing steady and to ignore the pleasant shivers causing me goosebumps. I forced myself to look into Sam's unyielding eyes.

"I'm not doing this to torture you, Rachel…" Sam trailed kisses down my neck, his hand slipped into my bra, extracting a sharp intake of breath from me.

"Then why? To prove that not everybody learns from mistakes and that you could easily get me to repeat mine?" Hell, he already had.

"I'm not going to lie, Ral, I'm not feeling anything you might want me to feel, but… this does feel right. Somehow."

"And I'm supposed to believe that?" Truth was, I did – I had to. Had to believe that the small piece of Sam's soul that was attached to his body told him that. "Didn't we just talk about women risking everything just to get their heart ripped out one way or another? Look, Sam, I'm not going to lie, either: I want you, badly. But not like this, not without your soul. I am not going to-" I took in a sharp breath, doing my best to ignore the tingling sensations he sent out in me by playing with strands of my hair, trailing his fingertips over my bare skin…

"…make the same… mistake…"

'Screw this.'

I jumped into his arms, clasping my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist, and crushed my lips on his. Sam pressed me tightly to his body, I felt his muscles rippling against my skin. The second he threw me on the bed and his body came down on mine, the last remaining bit of sense flew out the window.

It was intense, passionate, dirty and boisterous sex, and completely inadequate at that. It also left me burning for more.

'_Dangerous addictions, Rachel…' _

"We should get out of here…" Sam murmured, leaned over me and kissed the sensitive spot underneath my ear, "Before they wonder why the bed's all rumpled."

"They should be glad it's not broken," I grumbled, thinking of the dangerous protesting sounds the bed had made.

"By the way," Still a little shaky, I fumbled with the buttons of my blouse, "I was thinking that we probably shouldn't interview the husbands, but rather friends of the victims."

"Why?"

"Because girls never go out alone. So someone had to have been with Drew and the other women, they must have seen the incubus, too."

"Good point. Where do you want to start?"

"Well, I think I know where the Alpha's hunting ground is. Before you interrupted my train of thought by tearing up old wounds and off my clothes, I found a calling card of a bar nearby. Figured we'd start there."

"Not bad, Agent Austen."

"Let's get moving, Agent Turner, before I call our supervisor and accuse you of sexual harassment at work."

"It's not harassment if it's consensual," Sam smirked lewdly as he closed the door behind us.

"Bite me," I snapped back, only realizing my mistake after the words were out.

"Is that an offer, Agent?"

"Definitely not."

"And if I had my soul?" Sam turned the key in the ignition and rolled out of the motel's parking lot.

'Then I wouldn't feel so horribly empty and alone,' I thought wistfully.

"Debatable. We cross that bridge once we get there," I paused, "Sam… do you even want your soul back?"

"You mean, isn't it easier to live without emotions and all the other stuff getting in the way? Of course it is, and I'm not sure I want a soul back that's been in hell for over a year."

"So is this a goosechase or not?"

"I don't know, Rachel."

"Not comforting, Sam."

"There are moments when I wish I had my soul back, when I wouldn't even care about the consequences… but the rest of the time, I'm living pretty good without it."

It couldn't have been clearer that there was no way Sam would care enough to pull his soul back from the pit himself. We had to do it Crowley's way.

God knew how long that would take… would I even live to see the end of this, or would I die of a broken heart before that?

Judging from the devouring emptiness within me, bets were on the latter. 

**Reviews much loved and appreciated! :)**

A/N: (Oh and I really did try that Google search for saving souls - I'm just glad I didn't lose my soul, because the internet so doesn't help you. :D Just a little note at the side.)


	9. Menacing Metaphors

Dean stared at his phone as if it would magically call Lisa for him.

It didn't, though; he ran a hand over his face and slid the cell back into his jeans pocket. How Rachel thought that this life wasn't 'all bad', he had no idea. He was still trying to see just one good aspect about it.

Before all that crap with the Apocalypse, he'd been content with the kind of life he'd been living – because he had his brother with him, and that's all that mattered.

Now all he had were even more broken pieces to pick up and somehow glue together, and a stranger _pretending_ to be his brother.

He downed another glass of whiskey. How was he supposed to crawl out of this huge black hole? This time, it seemed, there was no way out.

How had Rachel done it? How had she seemingly just shrugged off her binding connection to Mr Soulless and played it with a smile?

Dean remembered the fakeness in her fake smile, the frail stability of her good mood. It had been a recent change.

Following an instinct, Dean pulled out his phone again. "Hey, Bobby…"

"What crap have you two stepped in now?"

"Nothing we can't handle. As for now, anyways… no, Bobby, this is about something else. Did you ever run into a hunter named Rachel Black?"

"Ran into the whole bunch of Blacks at one point," Bobby poured himself a glass of milk and receded into his favourite armchair. "Why do you ask?"

"What can you tell me about her?"

"I can tell you it'd be better if you keep your hands off her."

Dean huffed. "Don't worry, I'm not aiming for a hook-up. Sam's got that one covered."

Bobby shook his head. "So even soulless, your brother's into women of the shadier side."

"I don't know, I mean, Rachel seems fine."

"I ain't saying she's not. She's a great hunter and she's smart… has a good heart, too. Not like her family at all. I don't remember all too much about her. Last time I met her was, what, 11 years ago? Heard a while ago she skipped out."

"She did, but she's back in now… Anyways, what'd you mean by 'shadier side'?"

"Listen, I ain't blaming the poor girl, her life must'a been hell growing up… anyways, it's a publicly known secret amongst some hunter circles that Rachel was living far too close to the edge for years. Drugs, abusive boyfriends, the likes."

Dean pressed his fingers to his forehead in an attempt to ease the headache building up there. He'd known about the drugs, at least, a little; but it seemed he hadn't gotten the full picture yet. Rachel's drug abuse wasn't a way of coping with the troubles in her life; it was merely one spectre of her self-destructive streak.

"What else?"

"What else what?"

"What else do you know?"

Bobby frowned, wondering if he should ask why Dean inquired after Rachel Black. Deciding he'd ask later, he grumbled: "Not much, other than she's unbalanced, a walking complex of complexes and as likely to kill the thing she's hunting as she is to kill herself in the process. Hell of a hunter, though, when she's not reached the stage of obsession yet. Dean, why are you asking me all this?"

"Just needed to check…" Dean mumbled. Just once, he wished Sam could bang a normal, sane and issue-free girl. "Call you back."

"Dean…"

He hung up and put the phone away just in time before Sam and Rachel returned. "What'd you find?"

"The possible hunting ground of the Incubus," Rachel informed him as she threw her blazer over one of the plastic chairs. She sat down in said chair and continued: "Bar downtown, pretty high-class. We went to check it out, but it was closed. Opens at 9 p.m. Anything at the coroner's?"

"Nothing we didn't already know," Dean shook his head. He debated whether to comment on Rachel's rumpled hair and how her blouse was buttoned up wrongly; for the sake of keeping the peace, he decided against it. On second thought, he didn't even want to know.

"Okay, so what do we do now?"

"Split up and talk to friends of the victims," Sam said. "If we work fast, we'll make it back before nine, then we can go check out that bar, see if that's where the victims were taken."

"Alrighty, then, I'll take friends of victims number 1 and 2," Rachel offered enthusiastically and hopped out the door.

"Does she seem…different to you lately?"

Sam turned his head and looked at the closed door. "Um… no?"

"Right, of course not," Dean sighed. "She probably could be a demon and you wouldn't notice."

Sam shook his head and decided to say nothing. He knew he was hurting his brother by his lack of a soul; but what was he supposed to do?

Feel guilty because he didn't want it back? Sure, he should. Guilt, however, was a feeling like any other, and so it wasn't bothering him at all.

0o0

Why won't anybody save me? How could I die over and over, and nobody ever cared?

I stared at the bathroom ceiling. I was cowering on the cracked tiles, leaning against the mouldy walls and, in that moment of clarity before the sweet poison numbed me again, saw how I had failed. Again.

After I had finished interviewing Regina Hudson's and Katie Parr's friends, I had been left with nothing to do and some time to kill before we would go to inspect that bar. Left with the emptiness that had taken hold after the high of sleeping with Sam, of having him want me – if only physically – had worn off.

I coped with it the only way I knew.

So here I was, broken, my blood poisoned with vicodine and whatnot, crying in some dingy motel bathroom, all alone with nobody bothering to care.

'What else is new?'

I couldn't tell you how long I sat there; maybe two minutes, maybe two days. It all blurred.

What had I done so wrong nobody would consider me worth saving? Why had nobody ever seen how broken I really was? Why had nobody stopped me from jumping off cliff after cliff?

I raked my hands through my hair, my breathing came ragged and in unsteady breaths.

Numb tears ran down my face, they made no sound. Made no effect. Because nobody cared.

Why could I never have what I desired most? Why was it taken away from me whenever I was so close to tasting it?

My babies, who never got to see the light of this world, dead.

My fiancé, dead.

The man I loved, my soul mate, my one chance of having one last go at happiness – soulless, uncaring, cold. As good as dead.

A dry sob escaped my throat.

"Rachel, you in there?"

Through a milky haze of unreality, I looked at the door. It took me a while to realize that someone had just called my name.

Dean.

"Yeah, um, just got out of…the shower." I wanted to pick myself up from the floor, but I couldn't. Didn't have the strength left, nor the balance.

"You mind opening anyways?"

My shoulders sagged a little deeper and I pressed my body tighter against the unyielding wall. Even in this cloudy state, I could tell Dean wasn't to be fooled around with now.

"Just, er… give me a minute." My hand fumbled for the plastic bag beside me; better swallow the contents than explain them. Who cared if I overdosed.

I never got that far, though: the door was kicked open with a loud crack, and Dean stood in the doorway in all his impressive, if tainted, glory.

He didn't look disgusted, he didn't even look surprised. Didn't look reproachful as he hurried to my side, ripped the drugs from my hand, crouched down in front of me and pulled me into his arms. "Rachel…"

All dams broke. I'd been holding them for years, practically all my life.

I clung to Dean, buried my face in his neck and let him hold me. I drew comfort from the warmth of his body, pressed my own so tight against his that I nearly couldn't breathe anymore. Tears streamed freely over my face as sobs shook my whole body. "I'm sorry, Dean… so sorry."

"Hey, it's okay."

I felt his hand at the back of my head, as if protecting me. Never had I felt anything more comforting, more real.

"No, it's not…" I sobbed.

"Yes, Rachel, it's okay. I got you, sweetheart, I got you."

"I screwed up. Screwed up royally… Dean, I can't- I wasn't-" I gasped for air.

Dean just sat there with me until I've calmed down enough to speak. Simply sat there, stroked my hair and held me. I was sure this wasn't the first time he had to clean other people's messes. I was sorry to add another one, but God knew how much I needed him right now.

"I wish I didn't have to bother you with this…" I wiped away the last remaining tear and looked at him.

"Rachel, stop. It's okay. You can't keep all that crap in, believe me, it doesn't do any good."

"Yeah, I get that… after 27 years, I actually might develop some kind of sense."

"Better late than never," He rubbed his thumb over my cheek and then helped me up, practically carried me onto the bed and sat down opposite of me.

"So… for how long?"

"Overall or just this time?" I brought my legs up in front of me and wrapped my arms around them. "For years back then… couple of days now."

"I'm sorry, but how are you able to hunt when you're…?"

"Stoned? It's okay, you can say it the way it is," I sighed, "I don't take so much that it clouds my judgement or affects my reactions. Just enough to make it all bearable, so that I don't feel the desire to throw myself at the next stake. When a hunt is over and the next one not in sight… those are the dangerous times. Or used to be; now everything's fucked up." I rubbed my eyes and suppressed another stream of tears.

"Look, I think I know why you do it, I mean, this life is hard, depriving and ungrateful. But, it's just… you don't seem like the type of person who'd turn to drugs and men who aren't exactly helpful for your mental state, either."

"I think my self-destructive streak was there before this kind of life was… hunting with my family just made it break out especially viciously."

Dean didn't press any further, he just waited. No words could explain how grateful I was to him.

"Feel up to handling overuse of metaphors?"

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Go ahead."

"All my life, I've been walking at the edge of cliffs. Sometimes I fell. And sometimes I _jumped_ down, just to see if anyone would catch me. If anyone cared. Nobody ever did. The cliffs got higher, the falls deeper, the landings harder. After a while, I didn't want anyone to catch me anymore. I just wanted it to be over, so I climbed ever higher cliffs and jumped down. Every time, though, I hit water. I was never granted the privilege of hitting the rocks. So there I swam, almost drowned most of the time, but each and every time, I somehow dragged myself back to shore."

"Nobody ever dragged you out?"

I raised my eyes and looked at him. "Not until today."

"So your family…"

"If they knew what was going on, they didn't care. That didn't exactly help me coping," I smiled bitterly, "So I turned to rather 'unhealthy' relationships. I know they were destructive and dragged me down, but those guys were the only ones who, if only for a short time, could make me believe that someone, at least, cared just the smallest bit about me. It was all a fake, of course, but when you can't get the real thing… you go for any kind of substitute. Do you know what it feels like when there's not a single person in the world you can turn to? When you're entirely alone? No home, no _family_?" I took a breath, "All I ever wanted was to have a home, to carry a different surname, to have kids, a family. A safe haven. And I just realized… I would never have that."

"You don't know that, Rachel."

"No? Look at me, Dean. I'm about as broken and damaged as a person can get. I hadn't been able to stay away from the drugs, and this won't remain my last relapse. The soul mate thing with Sam doesn't help, either, and I can't just erase that. Damn it, Dean, I love him, and he doesn't give a damn about me." Brittle my laugh sounded, "This hunt for Sam's soul… it could take forever. I'm already at the end of my strength now, I'll never make it to the end. I'd be surprised if I lived to see my 28th birthday."

"Don't talk like that," Dean stood up and sat down at the edge of my bed. He grabbed my shoulders and forced me to look into his eyes, "Now listen to me. I cannot change your past, how you grew up. But I won't let it happen to you again, I won't see you self-destruct. No, we're going to get Sam's soul back, and you will get that family you want so bad and that you deserve."

"_You_ didn't get all that, Dean, and God knows you deserve it even more than I do."

"I disagree with you there. Either way, I'm not going to let you destroy yourself."

"Why do you care so much?"

"I could ask you the same, Ral. Look, you're the only one who can get Sam's soul back… but apart from that, I do care about you. Not as Sam's soul mate, but as a person."

I swallowed the lump in my throat. As much as I loved Dean for being there when nobody had ever been, for being the first one to care about me; I couldn't deny that twinge of regret that it wasn't Sam who had pulled me out of the water as the waves crashed above me.

"Dean, er… look, 'thank you' won't ever cover what I owe you…"

"You don't owe me anything, Rachel. Just promise me you won't do anything stupidly self-destructive again," Dean's mouth curved into a one-sided smile.

"Dean, that's… not a promise I can make. It's an addiction, it runs deep in my blood, sense doesn't have a say in it."

"Don't I know," Dean sighed, and I was willing to bet he was thinking of Sam and demon blood right now. I was so sorry that I had to tear open those wounds again, wounds that had probably never healed properly. A look of pain crossed his face for a brief moment, but when he looked up and deep into my eyes, it was gone.

"Rachel… I can't take that addiction away from you. But you've been stronger than it before, and you can do it again. Plus, you have me to watch your every move now," Dean added humorously before he continued perfectly serious: "Just don't jump off any more cliffs before Sam isn't ready to catch you."

I wasn't sure if Dean knew he saved my life that night. He gave me something to hold on to, to keep fighting for: He made me believe again, believe that Sam could be saved if only I pulled myself together and used my soul connection to him to help.

I knew Dean's soul was a lot like Sam's would be. Having him care about me and believe in me – as the first person ever – sent a new wave of revitalising strength through me and gave me the prospect I needed to pick myself up and bring this hunt to an end.

The look that passed between the two of us said more than words could ever have.

"Speaking of… where is Sam?"

"I told him to go to that bar after he was done interviewing the witnesses."

"You didn't want to go with him?"

"Let's just say I had a feeling I was more needed here."

I nodded slowly and ran a hand over my face in a weary motion. The drugs still in my system felt like poison, it burned under my skin and I wasn't able to extinguish that fire no matter how badly I wanted to. "Okay… alright, um… I'll need like two hours to… function again."

"I don't think Sam will be back before that. Even if… I doubt he'd notice," Dean added bitterly.

"Dean, I really am sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"Still…" I shook my head. My mind was clearing already, something I was more than grateful for. Of course, it also meant that the void inside of me opened up again, but just like that night ten years ago when I left my family, I was able to bear that pain in order to move on. "I'll make it up to you one day, I promise."

I struggled to stand up and take a shower. Stepping out of the cubicle, I stumbled over the harmless looking plastic bag and its contents. My mind moved in slow motion; I thought of Sam, how he didn't care about me while I loved him. Thought of Dean, the hurt in his eyes and the need to have his little brother back.

Thought of the real reason why I was here.

I bent down, picked the bag up and flushed it down the toilet without a twinge of remorse. I was no use half-stoned. To live, I needed Sam's soul – and to get it back from hell, I needed all my strength.

Dean and I passed the time until Sam came back by going over the case, watching some TV and cleaning our weapons. A typical pastime in the life of hunters, in other words.

"Dean, do you really think I can get Sam to want his soul back so badly he'll pull it out of hell himself?"

He drew the grindstone over his machete another time before he answered me: "Honestly, I don't know. I mean, this whole soul business is confusing as hell. But I'd like to believe there's a better way than working for a demon to get Sam his soul back."

"You don't think we should tell Sam? You know, about soul mates, the thin possibility he can save himself and all that?"

"No. Trust me, it's better if he doesn't, 'cause otherwise he'll refuse yanking his soul back out of principle."

I didn't get the chance to ask Dean what he meant by that when the door already opened and Sam stepped in. The sight of him in a suit did not only speed my heart rate up, but also made me wonder how my and his life would have turned out if Jessica hadn't been killed; if Sam would have become a lawyer like me, living a life away from the things going bump at night. Would we have found each other, anyways? Or would we have continued denying the attraction we felt towards the other for sake of our respective partners?

Questions over questions, but the answers were long lost, forever.

"What'd you find?"

Sam loosened his tie and tossed the car keys onto the table. "A lot."

**So nothing brandnew this time besides maybe the bonding between Dean and Rachel. But this chapter was sort of just a filler before the big revelation chapter! Hope you liked anyhow. ;) **

**Next one should be posted within the next hours. **


	10. Rachel's Reprise

**Okay, 10th chapter and finally bursting the bubble! :) Hope you all enjoy and thanks for reading this far! :D **

"Turns out all women were picked up at the same bar, and three of them were seen leaving with the same guy."

"Isn't that kind of a risky move, always going to the same place?" Dean frowned.

"Not necessarily. I mean, the cops can't prove anything because he doesn't leave traces. Besides, these aren't murder cases – nobody in his right mind is going to accuse someone of stealing a woman's life force during sex. Well, except us," I threw in.

"So how're going to trap an Alpha and not kill it?"

"Good question," I mused, "I've got an idea, and there's a good chance it'll work."

"'Good chance' doesn't sound as appealing as 'fool-proof', Rachel."

"It's the closest it gets. Since incubi are the definition of promiscuity, they'd be repelled by chastity, right?"

"Are you saying we should hire a bunch of nuns to capture it?"

"Huh. Hadn't actually thought about that," I pursed my lips in consideration.

"That was not a serious suggestion, Rachel."

"Oh, right. Well, anyways, the symbol of chastity, apart from the Virgin Mary, is Juniper. It's a berry, which means you can turn it into a liquid, which means you can inject it."

"Like dead man's blood for incubi instead of vampires."

"Think it could work?" I looked at Sam and Dean, who looked at each other and then back at me.

"Yeah, it'll work. But for that, we have to get close to the incubus… and he's not stupid, he'll know we're hunters."

"Maybe that plan with sending the nuns isn't so bad after all," I threw in.

"Actually…" Dean started, and I should have smelled the rat then. "I've got a better idea than that. See, the incubus won't be suspicious of a pretty girl in her twenties who hangs around all lonely in his favourite bar…"

"Oh, no," I waved my hands frantically, "I am not playing bait."

"Actually you'd be more of an undercover agent, seeing as you're the one who'll have to dose him with Juniper juice."

"What if I'm not his type?"

Wordlessly, Dean reached for the stack of paper to his right and spread out the victims' pictures in front of me. Four of them were blondes around my age.

"Aww, man, come on… really?"

"We'll be there to back you up."

"All the way to the motel room?" I arched an eyebrow. "'Cause I can't just ram a needle into him in a bar full of people, which means I have to get him alone."

"You're the only one who can get this Alpha, Rachel." Dean didn't have to say that I was also the only chance of getting his brother's soul back.

"Wait, wait. Dean, we can't send her after that thing alone."

Both Dean's and my head turned to Sam in surprise.

"Are you…" I shook my head, "Are you worried about me?"

"I don't know. Maybe," Sam shrugged.

An ever so slight light at the end of a very dark and very long tunnel, and it wasn't hellfire. A warm breeze in the ice storm inside of me.

'Ever the more a reason to send you' was written on Dean's face as he turned to look at me, and I agreed with him with a silent nod.

"Look, I'll be fine. We need that Alpha, Sam." And if I die trying to save your soul, then so be it.

"Yeah, I know," Sam sighed, "That doesn't mean I have to be happy about it."

I smiled and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before I got dressed. I didn't know if by the last part he'd meant me being bait or him not really wanting his soul back, but for the sake of my sanity, I believed the former.

'Tonight, my suffering could be over…' I thought as I changed into dark skinny jeans, black heels and an elegant top, '…but therewith, Sam's would begin.'

So I looked at this hunt with a smiling and a crying eye. Most of all, though, I was scared of what would happen if I failed, if all this wouldn't end tonight.

I'd been running on borrowed energy for far too long already, and I wouldn't last another two days. Dean had saved me from drugs for now, but I wasn't sure how long it'd last – If Sam didn't get his soul back soon, I might as well lie down and die. My soul couldn't live without its counter piece for much longer.

"Hey, Ral, why do you keep a bottle of Juniper juice in your arsenal?" Sam asked as he returned from fetching said jug from my car.

"Well, when I figured we were going to hunt an incubus, I ordered some from Steve, an old hunting buddy of mine. He's quick in delivering."

"He didn't ask why you're suddenly hunting again?"

"'Course he did. I told him I'd grown tired of my normal life, and unlike other people, he's willing to accept that explanation."

Sam huffed. "Alright, I get it."

'You don't get the whole picture yet… and I'm not referring to the soul mate thing,' I sighed to myself.

In a way, the revelation that Sam was my soul mate had saved me from explaining myself and my motives. Dean now believed that this connection was the reason why I'd dropped everything to hunt the truth and Sam's soul, and he didn't ask further questions and trusted me now.

So I didn't have to explain to him that the real reason was something completely different.

Sure, now that I knew I'd never be happy if Sam and his soul weren't with me, it was what kept me going – but it wasn't what had gotten me started.

"Alright, there you go. One dose should knock him out, but take the other, just in case," Dean handed me two injection needles filled with the dark purple juice. "Sam, I'll wait in the car."

"You absolutely sure you want to do this?"

"Yes." I replied without hesitation.

Sam shook his head, a disbelieving expression on his face. "To tell you the truth, I don't quite care, but I would still like to know: Why?"

"I can't say. I hope that when you get your soul back, I'll find the right words to explain. For now, you'll just have to trust me… and promise me that it's worth it, that you want your soul back."

He took a deep breath. "I promise."

How honest was a soulless man's promise?

I would find out quicker than I'd like. "Thank you. Now, we should go, before Dean thinks we're doing God knows what."

"Haven't we already?"

"Stop being so damn polemical," I growled and stepped into my car.

Sam and Dean went into the bar first, so that I could come in later and take a spot where they'd see me and the incubus.

"Rachel… be careful, okay? Don't do anything stupid," Sam seemed reluctant to voice that much concern.

"This whole plan is stupid, but we're going through with it anyways. Don't worry, I'm good at my job."

Twenty minutes later, I sat in that bar, sipping some girly drink that tasted way too sweet and had way too little alcohol in it and waited for the tall dark handsome stranger to pick me up. I didn't know exactly what the incubus looked like, but the friends of the victims had given me a fairly detailed description, so I counted on my instinct to do the rest.

I was doing my best to put on a lonely, but not desperate look.

"Try be less Athena, and more Juno." Sam had said as piece of advice on 'How to capture myself an incubus'.

"Huh?"

"Less 'fierce Amazon', more 'desperate housewife'." Dean had supplemented helpfully.

"That totally goes against my pride, damnit," I'd cursed, but given in eventually, with the words: "You owe me one giant box of marzipan-free chocolates for this, Sam."

I sighed and took another sip of whatever kind of drink it was in front of me; I think it was a 'Hurricane'. To top it all, I was starving, and the only thing near me faintly resembling food was the small bowl of peanuts in front of me.

I. Hated. Peanuts.

"All alone?"

I looked up and found myself gazing into mesmerizing blue eyes, framed by a handsome face and blonde curls. Sadly, this hunk came with a creepy feeling crawling up and down my spine.

"I was. Until now," I smiled seductively and turned in my seat to fully take in the incubus' appearance. "That is, if you want to keep me company."

"There's nothing I'd rather do than sit with such a beautiful lady," He smiled and kissed my hand as he slipped onto the stool next to me, "I'm Kyle. Who do I have the pleasure with?"

Wow, that guy worked fast, and a little over the top (hand kiss, seriously?), if you asked me, but I was willing to ignore that.

'Make that _two_ giant boxes of marzipan-free chocolates, Sam.'

"Lara."

"I've never seen you here before. I hope you have never been to this place before, otherwise I would have to admit I made the inexcusable mistake of having never noticed you."

That was seriously supposed to work on women, honestly? Gee, I almost felt ashamed of my sex; maybe the death of the women who'd gone with this snotty-nosed upstart was natural selection. Whoever fell for these kind of pick-up phrases wouldn't have gotten far in life, anyways.

On the other hand… if you were looking for love in the wrong places, this was exactly what you'd fall for. Besides, I was the last person on this planet to judge on others' choice of lovers.

'No, I've just moved here, this is my first night out alone… My husband's working again." I gave a little sigh to top off the story.

"How dare he neglect such a wonderful wife?"

"You'd have to ask him that. We've lived in this town for six months now, but I'm still not assimilated. I just feel so alone… Darren's always working so much, he's away on business for weeks, and… I'm sorry, I don't mean to bore you. It's nothing you really share with people you hardly know." I gave an apologetic smile. I shifted gently in my seat, and sat in a way that gave him the best view of my cleavage. "I just wish I could feel alive again, you know?"

"Well, Lara, I know a way to make sure of that."

"Really?"

"Sure. Come with me and I'll show you."

I felt the needles press against my back, hidden underneath my jacket, and smiled: "Sounds exciting. Where will you take me?"

"You'll see." He leaned forwards, whispered in my ear and put a hand on my shoulder.

Way too close for comfort.

"Come on. Let's leave this dire bar and enjoy ourselves."

0o0

"Think that's him?"

"He's hitting on her hard enough," Sam grumbled.

"Are you…" Dean faced his brother, "Are you jealous?"

"No, but it feels as if I am."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means that I somehow know that if I had my soul right now, just looking at that scene over there-" Sam nudged towards the bar counter where Rachel sat, legs crossed and batting her eyelashes at the pompous jerk, "would make me start a bar brawl with an incubus."

"Huh. Imagine that." Dean didn't dare to hope, but he wished he could. Hope that he would get his little brother back tonight – one way or the other. Crowley or Rachel.

"Quite fascinating, isn't she? Then again, she has a lot of practice seducing soulless freaks, doesn't she, Sam? Sadly all her experience won't do you any good."

Sam and Dean jumped in their seats. "Crowley? What the hell are you doing here?"

"Keeping an eye on my employees."

"I said it before and I'll say it again: We ain't your employees," Dean snarled.

"Always have been, moose."

Sam shook his head: "What do you mean, it won't do us any good?"

"I'm saying that an Alpha incubus is only valuable with its counter piece, the Alpha succubus. So consider this Alpha half the rent. Get the other half, your soul is yours."

"Wait, wait. That was not the deal!" Dean had trouble keeping his voice down, "You said one Alpha and you'd give Sam his soul back."

"One complete Alpha. That one over there is just a half. But, fifty percent is more than zero, so consider it a start. Oh, and by the way, your little girlfriend's family is on their way, and they've got celestial help. So I strongly suggest you get me that Alpha quickly or you're back to square zero."

"What-"

Crowley was gone.

"Freaking demons, seriously," Dean cursed, "I told you they screw you over every single damn time!"

"Yes, you did, but that doesn't help us right now, Dean! And what'd he mean by 'celestial help'?"

"I don't know, but it ain't good. We need to warn Rachel. We can't pull through with this, it's too high risk now that her bloody family's joined the game."

"Dean, if we get off this case now, we don't know how long it'll take us to find another Alpha. Now, this might not give me my soul back, but it's our best shot right now."

"You're right," Dean admitted. What scared him wasn't that the Blacks were lose and would probably show up soon, but that he was willing to pull through with this plan to save Sam's soul even though he knew it wouldn't happen tonight. "Besides, I don't think leaving is an option any longer."

Sam turned his head in the direction Dean looked and saw Rachel leave the bar at the incubus' side.

0o0

"Nice car," I commented and got in on the Mustang's passenger's side, praying Dean and Sam would follow. I didn't feel comfortable without some weapon near me, especially not in a car with the Alpha incubus.

"Thank you. So I suppose I can add 'good taste' to the long list of your assets."

"Well, enlighten me, what else is on that list?" I asked coquettish.

Kyle smiled a winning smile as he drove through the streets of Portland's outskirts. "Well, there'd be your beauty."

"Is that all you see in me?"

"Certainly not, Lara."

So our flirting and all continued, until finally, he parked the car. The air had tightened around me over the past ten minutes, and I itched to plunge the Juniper juice needle into his body.

The street was quiet, it was a respectable neighbourhood he'd brought me to, which surprised me; I had thought he'd take me to a motel, like he had the others.

"Where are we?"

"My place," Kyle pressed a hand on my back and gently ushered me towards a giant mansion to our right. I prayed his hand wouldn't run lower and wonder at the bulge at the small of my back.

Uneasily, I climbed the steps to the porch, feeling his eyes on me like hot coals. I kept my eyes peeled for the Impala's headlights, but only the moon illuminated the scenery.

'Come on, get in before me so I can plunge that needle into you.'

But Kyle didn't. "After you, my lady."

I stepped inside, my muscles tensed to the maximum as he closed the door behind us. I hoped for the right moment to knock him out, when he didn't have his eyes on me, especially my back.

"You know, Lara, what I find most fascinating about you?"

"No, please tell me," I said, though without the ease of my previous flirtations.

"Your bravery. Even for a huntress, you are exceptionally bold, or maybe just stupid."

My hand flew to the injection needle and Kyle lunged at me. Within the fraction of a second, we were on the floor.

His one hand held my wrist firmly against the floor while his other struggled to keep my free hand down. I brought up my knee and kicked him off of me; reached for the only weapon I had and plunged it into his heart, injecting the venomous juice into his veins and sending a prayer each to heaven and hell it would work.

His movements slowed, his eyes became blank, but he still struggled. I gave him a good beat to the head before I reached for the second injection and dosed him with that, too.

I reached a hand to my cheek where he'd struck me before and it came back bloody. "That could have ended worse," I groaned and struggled up. I looked at the lifeless body in front of me – could this really have been the end to all my sufferings? Would Sam get his soul back?

I pressed down the door handle. It didn't move. I rattled, and kicked, checked if the door might have been locked, nothing.

"Yes, it could have, Rachel. As a matter of fact, it _will_ end worse."

I whirled around. My mother stepped out of the darkness of the giant entrance hall and towards me, followed by Karen. To my left, Hayden appeared, my father to my right. The expressions on their faces, as far as I could tell in the dim light, was unyielding, merciless – inhumane.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"The story has to end the way it was written. We can't have Sam Winchester trap Alphas and hand them over to the King of Hell to get his soul back, because we need those Alphas to tell us how to open Lucifer's Cage again. The fight between Michael and Lucifer has to happen. Sam Winchester needs to be an empty vessel, soulless. We can't have him cast Lucifer down once again. By beguiling him to pull his soul back, you're threatening that."

"Why would you care about what-" I choked on my own words when I saw the blue orbits in the dark. The same eyes that I'd last seen when an angel had tried to kill me.

"Your family hasn't been themselves for a while now, Rachel. You should have joined us when you had the chance; now it's too late."

All air was knocked out of me as I flew against the wall. Unbearable pressure pinned me against it, immobilizing me and making me cringe in pain.

Struggling against the invisible hand clenching my windpipe, I choked out: "Why are you so intent on having me play for your team?"

"Didn't we just tell you?" My father, or what used to be him, snapped, "You're getting in the way. We tried persuading you the easy way by asking you to hunt with your family. They'd have set you onto the right track, away from Sam Winchester. You decided to become soulless Winchester's obedient bitch, though, so now we'll have to get you of the way old-fashioned style."

"Why can't you just let us be? You think when either Michael or Lucifer is dead, Raphael will rule heaven and all will be well?"

My mother cut me off. "Where's Sam's soul? Is it still in the Cage? If it is, where in the Cage?"

"Go to hell," I spat. "You want to destroy his soul and have the archangel prize fight happening, you'll need to find someone else to torture it out of. I'm never going to tell you where Sam's soul is. Ooops, I forgot, I'm the only one who _can_."

I suppose the churning of my internal organs was intended to make me regret my words; tasting my own blood in my mouth, I had to say I was damn near to doing so.

"How'd you get my family to say yes to you sons of bitches, anyways?" I rasped.

"We told them they would see their precious daughter Lucy again. That was rather a formal matter, though, since we didn't quite ask, we just took. These are temporary vessels, they don't have to be asked for permission. The downside would be that neither of your folks will survive it. Then again," The angel possessing my mother flicked her wrist and I fell down onto the floor with a painful thud. Literally every fibre of my body screamed in pain, I could feel my heart beat irregularly against my chest. Without having prophetic visions, I could tell this was the beginning of my end.

"I suppose you don't really care about your adoptive parents and siblings. That's right – your biological parents didn't want you, either. Nobody ever did, Rachel. All your life you've been lonely, never belonged anywhere, have never been loved. Now, we can set it all right, if you just tell us where Sam Winchester's soul is."

Noiseless tears ran over my cheeks; this was just too damn much. "Just…" My chest heaved heavily, gasping for air, "…tell me why. What is that you want with me?"

"Apart from leading us to Sam Winchester's soul? Nothing. You're worthless to us, we don't need you. So, tell us where it is, and your life can go back to normal."

"Why did a demon save me? Why do you all want me back in so badly?"

The angel chuckled with my mother's throat. "The demons enjoy pain and destruction, Rachel. I suppose for them, you're just a game. Seeing how long it takes for you to break and self-destruct, I imagine that is quite entertaining for them."

Is that all? Was that really all I was to this world? A meaningless toy, dispensable and worthless, the sole purpose of my existence serving for others' cruel entertainment?

I had trouble holding back my sobs; I had reached the breaking point of what my psyche could take.

"If it's any consolation, you do carry on a useful bloodline, however diluted it flows in your veins. Either way, it doesn't matter now."

Thousands, millions and then billions of burning hot needles turned my insides into a torturing mess that made me scream in pain. Where was Sam?

What had I done wrong that nobody thought me worthwhile of saving? When had I gambled away the right to be loved, to belong?

"Sam's not going to save you, Rachel. You know that, you've _always_ known that despite your soul connection, he never cared about you. So just tell us where his soul is, and all this can be over. We'll destroy his soul and you'll be free of the mark on yours."

I choked on my tears. I could as well give up.

0o0

"Something's not right," Sam said curtly and got out of the car.

"Sam, wait-"

"She's been in there for too long, Dean."

"We barge if she hasn't drugged the Alpha yet, we have no idea what he'll do!"

"Dean, I'm telling you, something's wrong!" Sam hurried across the perfect lawn and rammed his shoulder against the front door. It didn't budge.

Not that he trusted Sam's 'instincts' these days, but maybe he was right about this one. Dean followed him, not able to deny a sense of worry taking hold of him – and it wasn't only about Rachel.

0o0

"Sam's soul is gone forever, Rachel, you'll never be with him in the way you want. We can erase that mark on your soul. You could be happy."

I shook my head, too weak to do more.

The next second, I was on the wall again, pain like I've never felt in my whole life filling my every cell. My lungs started giving up, my heart was slowing down… I was dying.

"Last chance, Rachel. Where's Sam's soul?"

I was tempted to accept their offer, I admit. The prospect of being free of any marks on my soul, of living a carefree life, of _finally filling this damn emptiness inside of me_… sure, it sounded tempting.

Hell, I wanted to give in.

Then, luckily, an epiphany struck me like lightning just before I could tell the angels where Sam's soul was: This wasn't just about me. I hadn't gone this far for myself.

"I'll never tell you."

"Regrettable, Rachel."

My world was turning black at the edges when I heard a slam, a shout and then screams. I didn't even perceive how I slumped on the floor, how the pressure had eased, how the pain had gone…

"Rachel."

I coughed, my throat was raw and dry, but I managed to croak out his name: "Sam…"

Couldn't breathe, couldn't breathe…

"I'm here. Damnit, Rachel, what'd you do?"

Through a haze of numbness, I felt how Sam pulled me into his arms. I couldn't open my eyes, so I didn't see him…I just knew it was him. The warmth of his body tickled my skin, like a promise of home. "Something stupid, obviously. Look, Sam…" My voice gave up.

"Don't you die on me, Rachel!"

I felt how a surge of power shot through me. It wasn't much, but enough to have been there. I forced my eyes open and looked into Sam's hazel ones – and then I saw the faint flicker of _life _in them.

"Sam, do you…" I gasped for air, fighting the pressure on my collapsing lungs, "Do you feel it?"

"Yes," he nodded, and I thought some emotion to cross his troubled face, "But I can't take it, Rachel."

With what little strength I had left, I lifted my hand and cupped his face. "Sam, please… you promised. Take your soul back, I'm begging you."

"I can't, Rachel. It's too much."

"No, Sam, you can pull it back to you… please. You're stronger than hell… save us both." What was the point in appealing to his feelings for me if he had none? I knew I would fail. I couldn't make him whole again.

Sam shook his head. "I'm sorry, Rachel, but I just can't."

The light of life in his eyes started to recede; his soul was falling back into the darkness of the pit. If I ever had the chance of holding on to it, it was now – I had nothing to lose anymore, anyways.

"Sam," I whispered, "If you won't do it for me… do it for our daughter."

"What?" The light in his eyes, it stayed. It didn't grow, but it didn't recede, either.

"Sam…" I rasped, tears running down my face and catching in my throat, "After you left, I found out… that I was pregnant. With _your_ child. Sam, I'm begging you, take your soul back. You can do it… Please, Sam… I want you to _care_ about your daughter, I want us to be a family… please, Sam."

A growing shine of life in his eyes.

Then lights were out.

0o0

Family.

If there was anything he'd ever wanted, it was a family, a home.

_Please, Sam_.

His brother. He needed to tell Dean he loved him, didn't want to cause him any more pain than he already had. Wanted to go back how it had been between of them all their lives, until he'd fallen off track and ruined it.

_Please, Sam_.

Rachel. He had to tell her that he was sorry, tell her he loved her. Couldn't see her suffer anymore, he had to right the wrongs he'd dealt her.

_Please, Sam_.

His daughter. He needed to know her name, he wanted to see her grow up. Give her a home.

A family.

**Feedback much loved! **


	11. Mere Memories

Warmth spread from my heart to the rest of my body, healed my inner wounds, chased away the coldness.

Last thing I remembered before I passed out again was the light returning to Sam's eyes as his soul returned.

0o0

"Call 911," Sam ordered before he rushed to Rachel's side.

Dean stepped outside and dialled said number. "We need an ambulance, 199 Rutherford Drive." He snapped his phone shut, hesitated before he stepped inside and looked at the battlefield.

Rachel's entire family lay on the floor, now that the angels had been expelled from their bodies by the symbol drawn with Sam's blood on the wall, they were all dead. The incubus was sprawled on the carpet, knocked out cold from the Juniper.

In the middle of it all were Rachel, barely alive, and his brother.

"…I want us to be a family… please, Sam."

Dean barely had any time to process the emotions rushing over Sam's face, how Rachel jolted in his arms, before both of them sunk to the ground motionless.

"Sam!" Dean cried and ran to his side. Frantically, he checked for a pulse. After what felt like an eternity but really was just one second, he found it and let out a sigh of relief. "Sammy."

Dean quickly checked to see if Rachel was still alive – which she was – and then returned his attention to his brother. "Sammy, come on, wake up."

He didn't.

An hour later, Dean sat in some hospital's corridor – somebody had told him which one it was, he just didn't remember – and waited for news. Sitting on the plastic chair, staring at the white walls, it drove him nuts.

"Mr Winchester?"

Dean raised his head. "Yeah."

"I'm Doctor Meyers," The elder man held out a hand, which Dean took automatically. He didn't really give a damn who he was, as long as he could fix his brother.

"Ms Black is conscious now. She's suffered severe blood loss and some minor injuries, nothing permanent."

"What about my brother?"

The doctor sighed. "Mr Winchester is, physically, fine – his body shut down due to a severe reaction to traumatic stress."

Dean ran a hand over his face. He should have known Sam wouldn't just shrug off and live with one year full of torture in hell. Sammy had his soul back, yes, but he was worse off than he'd ever been.

"What does that mean?"

"Your brother suffered a traumatic-"

"I know what happened, doc, I meant what's going to happen to him?"

Doc Meyers sighed again, an annoying habit as Dean found. "We can't say. Not now, at least, we'll have to wait and see."

Dean shook his head and marched past the doctor into Sam's room. "Damn it, Sammy."

It wasn't right to see Sam so weak, so helpless and broken in a hospital bed. He didn't belong here. "This isn't what I pictured when I said we'd get your soul back, you know," Dean sat down beside his brother, forcing back tears.

"I just wish we could lead a life that doesn't force us to stand at the edge all the time. God knows we've both given enough, suffered enough… I wish I could take the pain of hell from you, Sam, I really do. But I can't… so you have to be strong for me, okay? I need my little brother. I can't possibly know what your soul's gone through this past year, but if you just wake up and let me help you…" Dean wiped the tears from his cheek. "You're my family, Sam. Don't you dare give up on life, you hear me?"

Dean didn't even hear the door open, the barefoot steps on the linoleum floor. "Dean…"

He snapped his head around and looked at Rachel. Part of him was beyond furious with her; she'd gotten Sam to have his broken soul back, she'd led him into this state. The rational, bigger part of him knew that was nonsense. If anything, Rachel had saved his brother – Crowley would have always found ways to weasel his way out of the deal, he'd never given Sam's soul back. But it was just so much easier to blame somebody else.

"You mind if I sit with you?"

Dean was about to snap that he did indeed mind when he realized how broken Rachel sounded, how weak and fragile she looked. Knowing that she was a lot like him, he figured she was already beating herself up about this more than he ever could.

So Dean just shook his head.

Rachel floated to the other side of Sam's bed like a ghost. Silently, she looked at him for a while, before she slowly snuck her hand in his, tears streaming freely over her face. "I'm so sorry, Sam. I should have…" Rachel shook her head, the lump in her throat making any further words impossible.

"None of this is your fault, Rachel," Dean found himself saying.

"I appreciate you trying to comfort me, Dean, but I'll always have to live with the fact I was the one who persuaded Sam to want his broken soul back. Nothing will ever set that right."

"We couldn't have left his soul in the pit, burning there for eternity. Believe me, as much as I would like to blame you, or anyone for that matter, this was the best way."

"Doesn't strike me that way."

They remained quiet for a long time.

"Rachel… how did you get through to him?"

She looked at Dean through tear-filled eyes. "I told him about our daughter."

"Your… what?"

Rachel clasped both her hands around Sam's. It hurt so much to see him, the strong, tough and unbreakable hunter in a hospital bed, attached to life-supporting machines. It wasn't right.

Talking to his brother, it was the only comfort she received at the moment. The only lifeline to her love, her heart. So Rachel spoke; it felt relieving.

"Sam had been gone for four weeks when I found out I was pregnant. I knew I could never abort my baby, even though it would have been the more rational decision, seeing as Sam wouldn't show up any time soon… so I kept the baby without really thinking about the consequences. I had had two miscarriages before, and maybe a part of me even believed I wouldn't go full-term this time, either. I was scared, though. Not only because I would have to raise a child on my own, a child whose father was a walking mystery and a missing myster at that. And I was scared because I knew absolutely nothing of Sam, just that he was in some kind of deep trouble. I can't explain to you why I did why I did, I suppose it was mother's instinct. Either way, I gave birth to our child nine months later and gave it into a kind of foster care. A friend took my daughter in – I knew I couldn't raise her as long as I didn't know the truth about her father. So that's the real reason why I was so intent on helping you, on finding out the truth. I owe my daughter that. I performed a spell that made it impossible for anybody but me to talk about her, and I could only talk about her on my own free will. It's why the truth curse didn't work. Now, I know that it sounds overdramatic, but with the life I've been through… I couldn't risk my daughter being dragged into this."

"You gave up your daughter to keep her safe."

"Yeah," Rachel was surprised to find that there were still tears left for her to spill. "It was the hardest thing I ever did, believe me. She was the only joy I had left in my life. Looking back, considering all that's happened, though, I'm glad I did what I did, no matter how painful it was." She looked at Sam. "Now you just need to come back to us, love."

Dean was still working through the fact he was an uncle and that Sam had a daughter – Sammy, his little brother Sammy had a daughter - when a nurse stuck her head in. "Mr Winchester? The police are here, they want to ask you a few questions. I told them it wasn't a good time, but…"

Dean looked at the nurse, back at his brother and Rachel, and slowly stood up. Giving his brother's shoulder a quick squeeze, he said: "It's okay, I'm coming. You'll be okay, Rachel?"

She nodded absent-mindedly. Unwillingly, Dean left them behind to give the cops some bullshit story they'd swallow without too much suspicion.

Rachel stood up after the door had closed and lay down beside Sam. His broad shoulders didn't leave her a lot of space in the narrow bed, but enough. She pressed herself against his side, wrapped an arm around his waist and snuggled her face against his chest. Placing her hand against his chest, feeling his heart beat steadily… it was closest to peace she had ever come. Save for the moment when she'd first held her daughter in her arms.

"I named our daughter Hazel Samantha Winchester, after you. I've always wanted her to know you, Sam. I never regretted having your baby, never." Rachel brushed through Sam's hair lightly. She didn't know how much of what she said reached him, whether he heard her at all; but she had to believe he did. "She was born August 9th and she's the most beautiful thing on earth. You'd be so proud of her, Sam. I'm sure that one day, she'll look just like you… She definitely had your kick, let me tell you that." Rachel smiled weakly and kissed Sam's cheek. "Come back to us, Sam. I want our daughter to know you, I want you to teach her how to handle a shotgun. I want to see us going to parent teacher conferences, I want you to scare away her boyfriends… I want to grow old with you, Sam. I want us to be a family."

Rachel snuggled closer against him. "I love you."

Dean had finally answered the cops' last question. He was tired, completely exhausted and worn out. He returned to Sam's room and found Rachel lying in bed beside him; the look of those two together had something peaceful.

"Mind if I take the other?" Dean nodded towards the empty bed.

"Not at all," Rachel actually mustered up a smile.

0o0

"Remember that time I showed up at your and Jess' doorstep in the middle of the night after a date gone wrong? I so desperately wanted to talk to Jess and complain about how horrible men could be; only that Jess was home visiting family and you were the one who had to supply me with Ben & Jerry's and listen to me sobbing and cursing the whole night. I don't think I ever thanked you for that… So, thanks, Sam," I leaned up and kissed his cheek.

I let a minute of silence pass before I started again: "Remember that night you and I sat in Ellie's kitchen, everybody around us was drunk, and we talked about not feeling as if we fit in? I think that was when I realized you were my soul mate. Of course, I didn't really _realize_ realize it, but I think it's when we first connected. Great, now I sound like some New Age hippie chick."

I sighed, slowly ran my hands over his chest before closing my arms around his waist and hold on to him for dear life. I had trouble speaking with the huge lump in my throat, but talking to Sam was the only thing I could do – I didn't know if he heard me, didn't know if it helped him finding back into this world… but it wasn't like I had any other options.

And this felt right. Through that giant void inside of me that came from my soul mate floating somewhere in twilight zone, I could tell that this was right.

"Did you know that I had a little crush on you when I first came to Stanford? Probably not. Friends come before boys, so when I found out Jess had her eye on you, I uncrushed on you. But I never stopped feeling safe around you, almost at home."

I paused again before I continued: "But you want to hear something really weird? When you came back after six years and just suddenly stood in my apartment, I knew something was wrong, that something had changed about you – but I didn't care. I didn't care because I will love you no matter what you are, how broken, messed up and damaged you get. Sam, I'm begging you, wake up. I know it's painful, and I can't possibly imagine what you're going through… but no matter how bad it is, we can work it out. Just let me help you, let me be there for you." To tell the truth, I wasn't sure if I could handle it; I had long since reached my limits.

Sam getting his soul back had saved me, too, it had healed the physical wounds the angels had dealt me – but psychically, I was standing at the edge, already toppling over.

Then I would tell myself to stop being such a wuss; I had to be there for Sam now. _His_ soul was the one who'd spent the past year – which equalled 120 years up here – in Lucifer's Cage. Compared to that, my sufferings were a mere marginal note.

Still, it hurt so much, up to the point where I thought I could no longer take it.

Then the thought of Hazel reminded me that I was responsible for getting her Dad back, and I fought on with energy I technically no longer had.

0o0

Dean couldn't handle this any longer.

He hadn't picked up a hunt ever since Sam's gotten his soul back and lay in a coma, the Impala's trunk hadn't been opened, he hadn't slept for more than two hours a night if at all, hadn't eaten properly and lost Lisa and Ben for good.

But Dean didn't care about any of that.

For three damn weeks now, Sam's condition was unchanged.

For three damn weeks he'd tried everything, dug through every damn book, talked to every damn hunter, witch, soothsayer and when they couldn't tell him squat, he'd even talked to every damn human doctor near. Nobody could tell him damn anything.

As for Cass, well, that son of a bitch didn't answer any of his calls.

For three damn weeks he'd ransacked the whole damn country for anyone who might help Sam. He'd found nothing.

He'd run out of places to look, and now he was scratching the walls in this damn hospital. Dean couldn't bear seeing his brother like that, but he couldn't leave him, either.

Strangely, the only comfort he received at the moment was Rachel. Listening to her melodic voice cooing to Sam, conjuring up memories and almost creating the illusion of a normal, good old round of 'Remember when…', it was the only, if ever so small, safe haven he had left.

For three weeks she hadn't budged, had never left Sam's side. When she had to go to the bathroom, eat or shower, she always made sure Dean was with Sam, just like she made sure she was never gone for more than ten minutes. The nurses had told him that when he was gone, Rachel shut all her body function down, almost as if she went into hibernation.

Once he knew that, Dean tried making his hunts for solutions shorter, before he gave them up completely.

Rachel had lost weight and the glow in her face. Dean just hoped she hadn't lost the will to live yet; there weren't many things that Sam was holding onto in this life, he couldn't afford losing one of those few.

In some corner of his mind, Dean hated himself for thinking of Rachel as just an instrument to get his brother back; she was more than that, but he was too blinded by grief right now to see that.

He stood in the corridor and, through the opened blinds, watched his brother and Rachel, her frail body pressed against his immobile. Dean liked to believe that having his soul mate at his side would help Sam get better, that it would make him want to live despite the memories of hell he'd have to deal with.

"She should eat something," The nurse interrupted Dean's rambling thoughts. He hadn't even noticed her standing beside him. "And you, sir, should get some sleep."

Dean scoffed in reply. How was he supposed to sleep when his brother was going through hell all over, trapped in his memories?

"…Hazel's going to be 4 months old next week. I wish we could celebrate that together, Sam, just like I want us to be a family for Christmas…"

Remarkable how, after three weeks, Rachel could still think of buttons to push, of things to say, to coax Sam back, Dean thought and closed the door behind him.

"Dean…" She actually sat up and looked at him; for the past weeks she had only moved if she had to and had always kept her gaze fixed on Sam. Against the paleness of her skin, her anthracite eyes seemed to sparkle even brighter.

"Yeah."

"I can't get through to Sam alone."

"What do you mean?"

"Whatever I say to him, it's not strong, not _worthy_ enough. All our memories are in some way connected to grief; I tell him about our time at Stanford, he'll inevitably think of Jessica and losing her; I talk about our time together last year, he won't really remember or care too much because he had no soul. When I talk about our daughter, there's nothing he can really hold on to, because he never met her. For his soul, Hazel is just future talk, speculation. Nothing graspable. I might be his soul mate, Dean, but you're the only one who can remind him of how it feels to have a soul, how _happiness _feels. You were the one person he could count on all his life – Sam needs you more than he'll ever need me."

Dean nodded slowly, sat down at his brother's side and began: "Remember when we went to see the Great Canyon? We didn't take a case for a whole week, and we'd just sit on top of the canyon, doing nothing. I think it was the only vacation we ever took. You were such a prude about going to the bunny ranch, man…"

Were Rachel's eyes playing cruel tricks on her or did Sam's hand just twitch ever so slightly? "Dean…"

She was interrupted by a soft rustle.

"Cass!"

"Hello."

"What the hell? I've been screaming my lungs out for you for weeks now, and _now_ you decide to drop by?"

"Dean, I'm sorry-"

"Sam's in a coma, and you can't even be bothered to lay your damn hands on to get him better?"

"Dean, I cannot help Sam," The angel said decisively, slightly exasperated but compassionately. "I have news, however."

"Oh, great, I forgot to buy 'The Inquirer' today, anyways," Dean snapped.

"Guys, please…" Rachel threw in weakly.

Dean rolled his eyes, but refrained from further publicly voicing his opinion on Castiel's more than belated appearance.

Rachel gently closed her hands around Sam's. "Cass, what's wrong with him?"

"What isn't?" Dean growled bitterly.

Castiel looked at Dean, wondering if he was supposed to ignore that comment. Human minds sometimes worked funnily, he had learned. For instance, sometimes a question didn't demand an answer.

Castiel decided this was one of those times, and instead turned to Rachel: "I can't judge whether these will be good news or not."

"At this point, any information is good enough for me."

Rachel looked at Dean, and then back at the angel, nodding her agreement.

With a sigh, Castiel said: "Sam isn't in a coma, and his body isn't suffering from any post-traumatic stress, shock or anything of that sort."

Rachel's mouth fell open, her lips refused to form any of the billion questions on her mind.

Dean voiced her most prominent one: "Then what is it?"

"The part of his soul that has returned from the Cage into his body has to connect with the part that's been in him all along. As long as those two parts of his soul aren't mended, his body isn't capable of functioning."

"He'll make it, though, he'll put those two pieces together, right?" Rachel's hand tightened inevitably around Sam's.

"I'm afraid I do not have the answer to that. I'm sorry. Something like this has never happened before." Castiel looked at the floor absent-mindedly, before he raised his sharp blue-eyed gaze at Rachel once more. "Another thing… the force it took to rip Sam's soul back from the cage… it broke the mark on your souls."

**Thanks for all your reviews! :) **


	12. Humble Hopes

**I got _amazing_ feedback, thank you so much! :) Here's a chapter loaded with a bit of everything: Family, love, humour, sadness, etc. Hope you all enjoy!**

Wham, just like that. One sentence, breaking the only bond you ever truly had in life.

"Are you saying… we're not soul mates anymore?"

Castiel nodded.

"I thought it was an unbreakable bond!" The image of sharing a heaven with Sam shattered before my eyes, adding another pile of broken pieces to my already crushed life.

"Retrieving a soul from Lucifer's Cage… the amount of strength and willpower that took would be able to break even something unbreakable."

"Are you saying Sam wanted to break the mark?" Couldn't the angel just be clear, for once?

"No, I don't believe so. It was rather a side effect."

I sighed and ran my free hand over my face in a futile gesture of attempting to shut everything out, to dwell in my pain alone.

"I truly am sorry. I'll stay in touch." With that, the angel was gone again.

I shook my head numbly.

I should feel relief because I was no longer bound; I was free from any predestination and wasn't forced, to say it bluntly, to stay with the messed up man Sam would inevitably be once he woke up.

Neither Sam nor I would be 'forced' to stay with each other due to the marks on our souls; we had free will. Our happiness wouldn't depend on the other.

Or maybe I should feel anger; basically, all the pain he'd dealt me, involuntarily or not, had been for nothing. I still had nobody to call home, still nobody I belonged to.

I had no insurance he'd stay with me, with our daughter. No knowledge whether he'd even care, despite him having his soul back.

Either way, I should feel _something_ at this drastic change of facts.

Truth was: I felt nothing. Because nothing had changed for me.

"It doesn't make a difference," I whispered, directed at Sam. My fingertips flew lightly over his face. "Doesn't change anything… I love you, soul mates or not. I don't need a brand on my soul to know that."

I leaned forward and whispered into his ear, so quietly it was barely a breath: "I'll be here, Sam. No matter how broken you are, no matter how messed up it gets… we'll make it, Sam. Just, please… give us the chance to. Get your soul in one piece, the rest we can deal with together."

I meant every word: but the truth was that I might be overestimating me and my capabilities. I wasn't exactly known for my mental stability; but I knew that no matter how bad it would get, there'd always be a way out. As long as Sam was with me.

"Please, Sam… give us a chance to start it all over. You're the only one I belong to. I need you." I kissed his cheek, a tear falling from my eyes. "I love you."

"Grand Canyon… Dean."

I jolted back so abruptly I almost fell off the bed.

"Rachel…"

I didn't imagine it, I was sure: Sam's lips moved. His body stirred. "Sam!"

His hand tightened around mine, and I thought my heart would burst out of my chest from beating so fast.

Faintly, I perceived how Dean rushed to Sam's other side. "Sam! You with us, bro?"

My eyes quickly glanced at the chart documenting Sam's heart rate; it was definitely increasing. When it was at an almost frightening level, it suddenly fell back to normal again. Fearfully I looked at his face. "Sam?"

"Sam!" Dean practically shouted, anticipation as well as fear written evidently on his face.

"Dean… tone it down."

I didn't think I had ever seen anything as beautiful as the flinching frown on Sam's face just seconds before he finally, _finally_ opened his eyes.

I let out a sob of relief, not knowing whether to laugh or to cry. No words could have expressed what I was feeling, so I let actions speak instead: I leaned forward and kissed Sam with a passion like a drowning man would cling to a lifebuoy.

He lifted a hand to bury in my hair and press me tighter to him; he wasn't as strong as he used to be, but I didn't even notice it. I was too overwhelmed by his response; I could taste true feeling in his kiss.

Tears flowed freely over my face. When I eventually leaned back, my tears were wet, but flushed with life.

Dean pulled his brother into a tight embrace. "Thank God."

It could have been a second, and it might as well have been eternity that the brothers held each other. Even as an outsider one could see all the unspoken words passing between them.

"It's good to have you back. Was about damn time, too," Dean stated as they broke their embrace. I supposed I knew what he was thinking: There was no way he could voice the immense, beyond-belief relief, joy and happiness he felt, so he didn't even try. Sam would understand him anyways.

"Let's get you home," I smiled and kissed his palm.

An hour (and countless: 'What a miracle you woke up', etc.) later, Sam and I sat on the Impala's backseat as Dean drove West. To San Francisco, to our daughter, to our future. Whatever it might hold.

"You want to talk about it?" Dean asked carefully after comfortable hours of silence.

"Not really," Sam replied.

More hours of comfortable silence followed.

I had my arms around Sam's waist, my body curled up beside me as I leaned against him, listening to his steady heartbeat. We had a lot to talk about it, and not all of the conversations ahead of us would be pleasant: for now, though, none of that mattered. In this second and the next, it was just Sam and I.

"What about Samuel and the Alphas?" Sam asked when we just passed some dead factory town in Indiana. "And Crowley?"

"No idea. Haven't heard from either," Dean shrugged, "I wouldn't mind keeping it that way."

"Yeah, I hear ya," Sam huffed.

"You do?"

"Dean, it's _me_ again. With soul and everything. Which means I've got as good an instinct as any."

I smiled faintly into Sam's shirt, already halfway drifted off to sleep. I knew that some place inside of him, the damage hell had dealt him was lurking, and it would bust out one day. Probably sooner than later; but for now, I was perfectly content just being in the arms of the man I loved, listening to the brotherly bantering and the Impala's roaring engine.

Sam's kiss on my head was the last thing I felt before I fell into a peaceful slumber.

When I opened my eyes again, it was light out. "Did you drive all night?"

"I've driven longer for less," Dean's face was lit up by a smile, "Seeing Sam sleep was worth every second, too."

I smiled and tipped my head back to gaze up at Sam, who was still asleep. I was relieved to find out that his sleep seemingly wasn't affected by nightmares – yet. "Where are we?"

"Just passed Colorado state line. We could make it to 'Frisco by tomorrow afternoon."

"Only if you let me drive sometime in-between now and then, 'cause you look completely bummed out, and I don't want your head on my conscience."

"Rather me than my car," Dean grumbled.

I laughed quietly. "I'm a good driver, promise."

"Fine, you can take over once we get to Utah," Dean yawned. "I just want to point out what a proof of immense trust this is, Ral."

I chuckled, leaned forward and kissed Dean's cheek. "I know that, Dean. Thank you."

"Well," Dean looked at his sleeping brother in the rear-view mirror, "Now that Sammy's got his soul back, I suppose it won't be long until you're officially family, anyways – so she'll forgive me for deserting her for a few hours."

I refrained from pointing out the Impala was a car, not a human being. I was too hung up with Dean's former words to comment on his unhealthy relationship with his car, anyhow: "What do you mean?"

"By what?" Dean frowned, and I shot him a meaningful look, "Oh, you mean 'officially family'? Just wait and see, Rachel."

I shook my head, knowing I wouldn't get any further with Dean, and pulled out my cell. "Marty, hey, it's me."

"Rachel! Damn it, girl, I've been worried sick about you! You haven't called in weeks!"

"Yeah, I'm sorry. How's Hazel?"

"Brilliant, as always."

I let out the breath I'd been holding.

"Rachel, don't take this the wrong way… I love your little girl, I do, but Jill's kind of…"

"I know, I know. That's why I'm calling." Marty's wife Jill hadn't been too thrilled to take in a strange baby, but she was a righteous woman; so when I told her that I couldn't take care of Jack's baby (I knew I could count on no assistance if I told them about Hazel being Sam's) right now, that there was too much going on at the moment, she had given in.

Did I feel bad about lying and deceiving the only friends I had? Definitely. Did I regret it? Not one bit. It had been a necessary step to protect my baby.

"You're taking her back?"

"I've never given her away," I replied more sharply than intended. Me 'dropping off' my daughter was a real sensitive spot.

"Right, right. You know what I mean."

"Of course, sorry I snapped at you. Yes, I'm taking her back. Would it be okay if I dropped by tomorrow afternoon to pick her up?"

"Of course, I'll make sure I'm home."

"Marty, look, I can never thank you enough for…"

"Don't wanna hear it, Rachel. It makes me uncomfortable."

"I'll make up for it one day," My smile betrayed the truth in those words. I would probably never make up for it, as I'd leave San Francisco soon and never return. I could hardly show up in my former life with Sam at my side and play blissful family.

Nobody but Marty, his wife and my boss knew about Hazel; so some questions as to the sudden appearance of a daughter would most likely arise. That, in turn, would attract suspicion, which would draw demons and alike like moths to light.

I would have to leave everything I had, once again. But that was okay.

At 27, I finally knew what kind of life I wanted to live and with whom. More still, I was finally allowed and able to live that life, too.

Sam was still sleeping when I took over the Impala's wheel. He had a lot of catching up to do, after all.

"You be careful with my baby," Dean growled as he unwillingly scooted over to the passenger's seat.

"Relax, Dean. I'm not going to let anything happen to a family member." I patted the steering wheel, inwardly rolling my eyes. "Now, sleep already, before the bags under your eyes get bags under them."

"Charming as usual," Dean grunted and closed his eyes.

"Your welcome."

Once we crossed the Californian border, Dean insisted on taking over again. I didn't put much heart into my protest: I climbed into the back again and cuddled against Sam as if it were the most natural thing in the world that we would act as a couple now that he had his soul back.

It wasn't, not really. I was willing to pretend, though, at least for the time of the car drive to San Francisco. Matters would get complicated soon enough.

"How do you feel?" I asked when Sam woke up.

His one-armed embrace tightened. "Better, but far from good. How much further?"

Dean glanced at his watch. "One more hour, I'd say."

"Was I out that long?"

"You kind of had to catch up on a year of sleep." I smiled and kissed his jaw. "Hey, Sam, um… do you remember anything from what I told you while you were mending your soul?"

"Bits and pieces," He replied after a while. Sam weaved strands of my hair through his fingers. Leaning down, he whispered in my ear: "I know our daughter is called Hazel."

_Our_ daughter.

It sounded unusual, unknown, frightening. It sounded like home, like family.

"You do want to…meet her, right?" I was suddenly unsure.

"What kind of question is that? Of course I do!"

"Sorry. Just, you know, making sure…" I shrugged, not knowing how to best explain what was going on in my mind, or, more importantly: my heart.

"I understand, Rachel." He kissed the top of my head soothingly, "I know I failed you and our daughter, and I know this isn't any easier for you than it is for me. But we'll make it."

Hearing honest feeling in his words was like tasting water after weeks in the desert. I hugged him a little harder as I said: "I know we will."

"So whereto?" Dean asked when reached the hilly streets of San Francisco.

"My apartment."

"Wasn't it a demon-angel battlefield when you last left it?"

"Yeah. Marty had it cleaned up for me."

"Sounds like a cool guy."

"Yeah. Whereby I think he's helped me rather for Jack's sake than for mine."

Dean pulled the Impala up into the parking lot in front of the apartment building. It felt as if I had been gone a lifetime, not several weeks; there was no connection to this city anymore, not to my home, not to anything.

Except Hazel.

The lobby was empty except for the porter, who regarded the three of us with a quick look. "Ms Black?"

"Yes."

He nodded and turned back to the computer screen. I didn't dare ask what had happened to Mr Hurley; angels, the real ones, not the bible school edition, weren't known for mercy.

My legs screamed in terror at the prospect of climbing sixteen flights of stairs. Yet, the elevator was so not an option. I trembled with fear just looking at it.

Sam's hand closed around mine. It was warm and comforting, like his voice when he murmured: "Rachel. It's okay, I'm right there with you."

Sensing my breath calming, he gently led me towards the mouth of the monster. I gripped Sam's hand so tightly my knuckles turned white.

Everything was relatively okay – until the elevator's door closed. Cold sweat broke out on my forehead and I clenched my free hand into a fist so hard my nails left red half-moons on my palm.

I was just about to pass out from terror when Sam pulled me into his arms, holding my head against his firm chest and whispering: "It's okay, Rachel. Nothing's going to happen to you. We're almost there."

Buried in his embrace, I would have believed anything. My breath calmed down and my heart rate changed back, going a steady pace again.

Before I knew it, we were out in the corridor in front of my flat.

"Now you just have to face your fear of clowns, Sammy, and we've all defeated our inner demons," Dean grinned.

I shook my head smilingly, unlocked and pushed the door open. My own apartment might as well have been a stranger's home; it didn't fit my lifestyle anymore. Too tidy, too bright, too sterile. Too lonely.

I had spent the safest years of my life this way, but they had also been the most boring, the deadest ones.

"Alright, I'm gonna go and fetch us something to eat," Dean announced in a tone that implied he would take especially long so that Sam and I would have time together.

God knows we needed it.

After the door had closed behind Dean, a comfortable silence engulfed Sam and me like a warming blanket in a cold winter's night. Sam stepped forwards slowly until he stood right before me and I got lost in the beauty of his hazel eyes, glowing a vibrant green in the midday's light. He lifted my chin and grazed my lips with his. The kiss that followed was soft, gentle and loving, and my heart gave a relieved sigh as it finally got what it had longed for eternities.

"Marry me."

I leaned back and looked at Sam with eyes wide open from surprise. "What?"

"Marry me."

"Sam, I don't want you to feel obliged to marry me because we have a child-"

"This isn't about our daughter, Rachel. I'm asking you because I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life knowing I will get to spend every day of it with you."

"Why?" I asked simply. It was hard to believe I was loved merely for who I was. After 27 years of loveless existence, I wasn't able to accept that simple explanation.

Sam brushed his thumb over my cheek. "Because of the way you pout when something doesn't go your way, how your eyes change from a dark grey to light anthracite when you laugh, that fine line between your brows that only shows when you've set your mind to something. Because you are the way you are."

I would have liked to reply to that, but the lump in my throat disabled my voice.

"You brought me back, Rachel. When I saw the love and despair in your eyes when you were dying in my arms, I realized that no matter how damaged my soul would be, it would never outweigh the pain of losing you without ever having the chance to love you. I would take all the pain, all the torture hell has dealt me if it meant I could have you, that we would have a family. Whether we have a child now or in five years wasn't what mattered. All that matters is that we do."

"Sam…"

He interrupted me by laying a finger on my lips. "I won't be able to offer you a future of perfect bliss and harmony, but I promise you I'll do everything for you to be happy and safe. I know I'm not exactly husband or father material…"

"We won't know until we've tried, right?" I smiled.

Sam looked at me with an unfathomable gaze. "Think we could make it work?"

"Yes," I replied, and never before had there been more truth in my words.

"Rachel… I need you to know… I'm not alright. To tell you the truth I'm barely holding it together, and I won't be able to keep even that up forever. What happened in the Cage…" Sam's voice broke.

I cupped his cheek with my hand. "I know, Sam. But we'll make it through that. Together."

"How did I deserve you?" Sam clasped his hand around mine and kissed my palm.

I kissed him instead of a reply, since he didn't really expect one, anyways.

Sam broke away this time. "You still owe me an answer."

"I don't recall you _asking_."

Sam smiled briefly. "Fair enough. Rachel, will you marry me?"

"Yes," For the first time in my whole life, my eyes watered with _joy_, "God, yes."

Was it crazy to marry Sam? Maybe. Was it what made me the happiest and what finally gave me a home? Definitely.

We spent some minutes just standing there, kissing and enjoying each other's presence before we cuddled onto the couch and overlooked San Francisco Bay.

"So what now?" I asked after a while. A million questions raced through my mind, and I didn't know which came first and which second. My life was about to be renewed, whatever way, and I didn't know where to start.

Sam took a minute before he answered, weaving his fingers through my long blonde curls: "That depends on you, Rachel. I leave it to you whether you want to stay here, or start all over somewhere else, wherever it might be. I would leave hunting for you, get an honest job and we could have our slice of American Pie, if it's what you want."

I turned my head to look at him. "You would?"

Sam returned my look with mild surprise at my incredulous question. "Of course."

So that's how it felt to be truly, deeply loved, I noted with joyful surprise. I was tempted to accept his selfless offer of giving everything up he had and knew; the thought of living a normal life was enticing.

But not longer what I desired.

"Thank you, Sam, really. But that's not what I want."

"Then what is?"

"I want to start over, with you. I'm tired of trying to deny my past, it's pointless anyways. So I'll let it be, and instead focus on my, on _our_, future. I'm done with hunting, but I don't mind it being a part of my life. So the last thing I'm going to do is ask you to give it up. We can handle two different lifestyles and be a family all the same, Sam, I know we can. Look, I can find work elsewhere-"

"Speaking of: How were you able to just skip out for weeks? Did you quit?"

"Nope. Paid leave for new parent."

Sam let out a chuckle.

"Anyways, I could find work elsewhere, we could have a home… you and Dean go hunt whenever you want, be home when you can and I'll take care of Hazel and throw dinner parties."

"I'm not quite seeing you in an apron behind the hearth, Ral."

"That's why they invented catering services, honey."

I could feel the smile in Sam's lips as he kissed me and allowed myself to hope that maybe the damage of hell hadn't destroyed him as much as I originally feared.

"You really think we can pull that off? Sweet suburbia by day and monster-slaying hunters by night? Bake apple pies for the neighbours and slip some holy water into it just to make sure they're not possessed?"

"Smart idea, by the way, and yes, I'm sure we can pull that off. As long as we do it together, we'll make it."

0o0

Dean glanced at his watch. Three p.m. That should have given Sam and Rachel enough time.

As he steered the Impala through the streets, back to Rachel's apartment, he wondered how their lives would continue.

Sure, Sam and he had never known for sure what tomorrow held for them, but they always had some kind of end in sight; either they managed to stop Lilith from breaking the 66 seals or they failed; either the devil won the apocalypse or they did.

Now they didn't even know what they were up against.

Was Crowley the bad guy or their grandfather? What would happen to the Alphas, why were they suddenly all over the place?

Dean shook his head and parked his car. No point in asking questions to which the answers would just dig up more holes to fall in. All that mattered now was that Sam had his soul back, and the first thing on Dean's priority list right now was helping his little brother with the aftermath of hell and make sure he'd be okay.

The rest could wait.

A vibrantly beaming Rachel opened the door for him and Dean realized he'd never noticed how beautiful she was, with a smile lighting up her face and erasing grief's etchings.

"Dean…?" Rachel started innocently as they lounged around her coffee table and dug into the burgers and fries Dean had brought.

"Yeeeah?" He replied cautiously. He had learned the one thing to do when a woman sounded like innocence incorporated: Be suspicious and on your guard. Be even more so when woman in question is a hunter and knows how to handle sharp objects and firearms.

"Could I borrow the Impala for a quick drive?"

Dean nearly choked on an extra onion.

"My car's still in Maine, and I told Marty I'd pick Hazel up at 4…"

"Unbelievable," Dean noted as he found himself tossing Rachel the car keys.

"If it shouldn't work out between Sam and me, I'll marry you any day," Rachel grinned, jumped up and planted a quick peck on Dean's cheek. She leaned down to Sam and gave him a long, passionate kiss and when she looked into his eyes, it was as if it were only the two of them in this world. "I love you," Rachel said before she practically danced towards the door.

"Hey, Dean…" Sam started after he'd torn his gaze away from the closed door, the taste of Rachel lingering on his lips like her vanilla scent in the room.

"Yeah." Dean pushed his worried thoughts, bordering on panic attacks, about his beloved car in Rachel's hands out of his mind as good as possible and looked at his brother.

"Rachel and I wanted to ask you if you'd be our witness."

"Of what?" Dean asked before Sam's words registered in his mind.

Sam raised his eyebrows, waiting for it to sink in.

"Oh. _Oh_. Seriously, I'm gone for an hour and you're engaged? Then again, you did more or less become a father overnight, too, so I suppose you just work fast naturally. For future reference, Sam: Eternal bonds usually take time."

Sam chuckled, the one-sided smile that Dean had missed for so long crossing his face.

Dean's tone became serious when he concluded: "No, really, Sam, I'd be honoured."

"Thank you. Really."

A look passed between the brothers that told the other just how much it meant to both of them.

"So when do you two lovebirds plan to take that final step?"

"Not quite sure…" Sam leaned back and added matter-of-factly: "We were thinking maybe today or tomorrow."

Dean nearly choked again, the second time within ten minutes. He should stop eating and drinking when Rachel and Sam were around. "Come again? What did I just tell you about going too fast?"

Sam laughed and shook his head. "Just kidding. We'll see how it goes and all…"

Dean nodded slowly. "Hey, Sam, why aren't you going with Rachel, anyways?"

"Jack died just one year ago, Dean. That isn't a long time to grieve, really. And Marty is doing this for him, not so much for Rachel; for all he knows Hazel is Jack's daughter. It might seem a little weird if Rachel suddenly showed up with me and announces we're here to get our daughter. Besides… I think I'm a lot more comfortable getting to know my daughter here than some stranger's house."

"Fair enough," Dean emptied his beer. "Hey, Sam… you know we have to talk about it."

"How long did it take you to open up about your time in hell? Half a year? And you were downstairs for four month, I was there one year. So if you add that up… ask me again summer after this one."

"Sam."

"Yeah. I know. But not now, not yet."

0o0

'Please don't let me crash the car, please don't let me crash the car…' I prayed throughout the whole thirty-minute drive to Marty and Jill's house. For one, it kept my mind off the looming first encounter between Sam and his daughter, and for another, I knew I wouldn't get to enjoy my life for much longer if I caused just one scratch to the Impala.

My muscles relaxed when the engine shut up and the car was safely parked at the sidewalk. For two minutes, I just watched the house and gathered myself, then I finally had enough courage to step out and make my way to the front door.

"Rachel! It is so good to see you again!" Jill welcomed me, more or less authentic joy in her voice.

"Hello, Jill," I smiled warmly. She might not be my best friend, but the fact remained that she had helped me when I had most needed it and taken in my daughter.

"You dyed your hair."

"Yeah, I, um, needed a change."

Jill nodded. "You're going to raise Hazel alone now?"

"N.. Yes." I caught myself in time. "I've taken time off at work, and I'll just have to see how it goes."

"Ray!" A young voice squealed from inside the house and Marty and Jill's five-year old daughter Fiona came running towards me.

I bent down and picked her up laughingly. "Hello there, princess! How's your highness today?"

"I'm good. Mommy and I baked cookies today and Daddy came home early from work. We built a castle! Do you want to see it?"

"I'd love to." I set her down. The second her feet touched ground, Fiona sped away like a hamster on crack. Smiling, I followed her, though a little more slow-paced. Family, a home… I no longer had to eye it enviously, but could safely say that I had it myself.

Alright, so I didn't quite know where Sam and I would actually have our home, nor would I have a husband who'd go to work at eight in the morning and come home at five, and to the question 'How was your day, honey?' I'd get an answer somewhere along the lines of 'It took three silver bullets to take the werewolf down, but we got him.' and not so much 'The meeting was terrible.', but who'd bother with the details?

"Where've you been so long, Ray?" Fiona demanded as she pulled me down to sit beside her and admire her 'castle', consisting of blankets held together by stacks of books.

"I had to help a friend," I replied, hoping it would satisfy a five-year-old's curiosity.

"What friend?"

I opened my mouth to reply when Marty interrupted: "Fiona May, didn't I tell you not to be so nosy?"

The little girl shrugged, unimpressed.

"Hello, Rachel."

I got up and hugged Marty. "Hey."

He led me to the end of the corridor and opened the door. A baby laid in a crib, looking at the world around her with big inquisitive eyes. Hazel's tiny legs were kicking leisurely into the air.

Just looking at my baby let a peaceful feeling spread from my heart to the rest of my body.

"How's Mommy's girl today?" I smiled widely as I picked her up and held her in my arms, closely against my body. With a twinge of regret I noticed how much she'd grown; how much Sam and I had missed.

'We'll make up for it, Hazel,' I promised her silently as I ran my forefinger over her smooth cheek.

She gurgled happily, grabbed my finger and held it tightly.

"You know…" Marty ripped me out of my blissful motherly thoughts.

I unwillingly raised my eyes from my daughter to him, instantly not liking the frown on his face.

"I've been wondering where she's got the dark hair from, and her eyes turn greener every day."

Every fibre in my body tensed; was this just Marty being uncomfortably observant and suspicious, or a demon preparing its opening line?

"Yeah, um, my mother had brown hair, and Jack's parents both had hazel eyes."

Lies, all of it.

I had no damn clue how my mother, my biological mother, anyways, looked. Jack's parents had been blonde like him and had had blue eyes.

Hazel was Sam's all the way through.

My fears proved to be unfounded; Marty accepted that explanation without a blink and smiled: "Well, you ready to take your daughter home?"

"More than ready. Marty…"

"I said I don't want to hear it. It's been nice to have a baby in the house again."

"Jill still not able to get pregnant again?" I asked with sympathy.

"We've tried everything," Marty sighed.

"I'm sorry."

"No need to be, it's not your fault. We're thinking about adoption now."

"Well, you keep me posted, okay?" I smiled and hugged him. "Thank you so much, for everything, Marty."

"I owed Jack and you that much. Take care of yourself, Rachel."

"You, too."

I said goodbye to Jill and Fiona, the knowledge of never seeing the little girl again gnawing at me. I remembered all the nights I had spent here at this house, playing with Fiona, holding Hazel on my arms for as long as I could before politeness had forced me to go home at ten and leave the McLacklan's to themselves.

I had my own daughter to spoil and take care of now, though.

"Interesting ride," Marty remarked as he saw me to the door.

"That's all the garage could muster up as a substitute while my car's being fixed," I shrugged, praying Dean wouldn't ever hear his beloved Impala being degraded to an unwanted substitute.

I strapped Hazel's carrier down in the passenger's seat and kissed her forehead before I rounded the car and got in behind the wheel. "Ready to see Daddy?"

0o0

Like a hand smoothing creased silk, holding his daughter in his arms calmed the storm inside of him, enabled him to forget the hellfire, the pain, for a while.

Years ago, though it seemed like eternities, he'd pictured himself standing exactly here: A wonderful wife (or in this case fiancée, it didn't particularly matter; it all came down to the woman he loved) at his side and a child of his own on his arm.

Fair enough, he hadn't pictured himself as a hunter, much less a hell-damaged one. Sam found it didn't matter, though: Because of Rachel. She took him at his worst, made him keep it together because now there was something worthy living and _feeling_ for.

She had fought for him when all hope had already been lost and hadn't even given up when his lack of a soul had wounded her deeply.

Rachel had not only _saved_ his life; she'd given it a new meaning and new quality.

Their daughter looked up at him with round blue eyes – no, not quite blue. Green, with brown specks. _His_ eyes.

Rachel grinned to herself at the proud smile spreading over Sam's face. Overprotective father in the making.

"I'm going to bed, leave you three some time alone. See you tomorrow." Dean said as he handed Hazel back to her father. His niece had been love at first sight. Dean already envisioned an eight-year old Hazel and himself standing in front of the Impala's hood as he taught her the delicacies of mechanics. When she'd start high school, he'd tell her the best excuses when caught ditching classes, and after that he'd teach how to hustle at pool and other ways of improving her allowance. Most importantly, he'd teach her what kind of liquor was worth the hangover and what wasn't.

"Dean," Sam had interrupted his thoughts.

"Mhm? What?"

"You've got that look on your face."

"What look?"

"The 'I'm going to teach her everything no father would teach his daughter and Sam's going to kill me if he finds out' look."

"Oh, come on, dude, I would never."

Sam hadn't even graced that with an answer, just shaken his head.

"Alright, goodnight, Dean," Rachel hugged her soon-to-be brother in law, taking him slightly by surprise, "And thank you. For…everything."

Dean shot his brother a last worried look before he closed the door and let himself fall onto the bed. From experience, he knew the hellish nightmares wouldn't wait much longer.

0o0

"Rachel…"

I didn't like the concerned frown on Sam's face one bit. "Yeah?"

"Hazel… she… I mean, I don't know if…"

My insides clenched together in fear of what was to come.

"What Azazel did to me, I don't know if it's…inheritable."

"Neither do I. Hell, I don't even know what _I'm_ throwing into the mix," I huffed, thoughts of my unknown biological parents leaving a bitter taste in my mouth, "But, Sam, we can't change it either way. I don't want our daughter to grow up with her parents just waiting for her to read thoughts or have visions or move things… Until we have any reason to believe different, there's no need to worry. And if she should show any signs of, well, you know what, then we'll be there for her and make sure she won't fall off the wagon."

"Doesn't it worry you in the least? Need I remind you what _I_ did because of demon blood?"

"No, it doesn't worry me. Besides, you think I'm squeaky clean? Look, Sam, we aren't normal, that's just a fact. We'd be stupid to deny it. I did for a long time and look how that turned out. The only thing you can do with this life is accept it and make the best out of it. And that's exactly what we're going to do. I never blamed you for what you did or what you've got inside you; never saw it as a fault or weakness. I won't start seeing it any different."

"You're unbelievable."

"Very true," I grinned and stood on my tiptoes to kiss his lips. "I don't see why we should do without a family just because of some demon's dark plans. We've paid enough already, so we're going to get our prize, too."

"When you talk like that, you'd persuade people to vote Rachel for president," Sam remarked with amusement and deepened our kiss.

"Oh, yeah, an ex-drug-addict with a shady past and several APBs on her various pseudonyms, just what this country needs," I chuckled.

"Hey, Rachel… what did you mean by 'you don't know what you're throwing into the mix'?"

"Angels apparently like monologueing before staking someone to the wall, and it seems they're ready to spill info when they expect you to drop the soap anyhow."

"Rachel… what'd they say?"

My throat suddenly tightened. I shook my head, opened my mouth and closed it again.

"Why don't you go to bed, love? I'll put Hazel to bed and be right there."

I nodded numbly, kissed our daughter's forehead and disappeared into the bedroom. The thought of not sleeping alone anymore conjured a smile to my tired face, chased some of the fatigue of the day away.

My clothes fell to the floor with a soft thud, and I crawled under the covers with eager anticipation for Sam to join me filling my heart. I had to wait five minutes until he finally did.

"That took you long enough," I complained and nuzzled my face against his neck.

"Patience is a virtue, Ral."

"Whoever said that a virtue was a virtue was an ascetic, chaste and boring son of a bitch."

"At this point you have me concerned about your mother qualities."

I softly elbowed his ribs. "Since you're such a sucker for virtues, I suppose you don't mind a platonic, chaste relationship."

"I never said-"

"Alright, fine," I sighed dramatically and turned over, "Let me just say: What a waste."

Sam growled and flipped me around. Pressing my body deep into the mattress as he buried me underneath him, he claimed my lips in a hungry kiss.

"You really think you should get back at it so soon? I mean, you were out for three weeks, and you did just wake up from-"

"Rachel," Sam's growl was exceedingly turning me on, deep and primal as he tugged at what little clothes I still had on. "Just, for once, shut the hell up."

I couldn't have formed a coherent sentence anymore, anyways, even if my lips would have been free to speak. Sam having a soul definitely didn't only improve his emotional qualities.

I thought sex with him had been world-changing before, but I hadn't known then how it felt making love with someone who truly _felt_ it.

Finally I could fall asleep with the knowledge I wouldn't wake up and find another yearning emptiness waiting for me.

"You know, Sam… premarital sex isn't-"

"You bring up virtues one more time, Rachel, I swear I'll pull through with the chastity."

"Pfff. You'd never."

"What are you willing to bet?"

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

I evaluated the seriousness in his eyes. "Okay, fine. I'm not willing to take the risk of challenging your stubbornness. I'll be quiet."

"That was a quick defeat."

"Mhm." I slowly swung a leg over his hip, rolled on top of him and ran my hands over his chest as I placed butterfly kisses on his neck and face. "I surrender… so no need pulling through with the chaste thing…"

After a more than satisfying second round of heaven, I retreated to the safe haven of Sam's arms around me and holding me close.

"Hey, Sam?" I mumbled with my mind already 90% taken over by sleep.

"Yeah."

"I love you."

He kissed my forehead. "I love you, too. Rachel, what you said while I was…out… did you mean that?"

"Honey, I've talked to you for three weeks straight, you're going to need to be a little bit more specific."

"When you said that no matter how broken I'd be, no matter how messed up it'd get… we would make it."

"Of course I meant it. Sam, you've not only saved me, but the whole world. You battled the devil himself, stopped Lilith-

"Letting the devil walk freely in the first place."

"You didn't know, and in the end, _you_ locked him up again. You were willing to spend eternity in Lucifer's Cage to save the world. I mean, the life you lived, the responsibilities on your shoulders and all you had to endure… it'd be naïve to expect you to just come out of that unharmed. I love you no matter how bad it gets."

"I don't deserve that, Rachel."

"Shush. I don't wanna hear it. You and Dean deserve love, happiness and family more than anyone. Accept that, if not for yours, then for my sake."

Sam just nodded, as I perceived through half-closed eyes.

"I love you, Ral."

I was too tired to reply, wasn't even sure if Sam said anything at all. The faint whisper of 'sweet dreams' sounding in my ears, I fell into a deep sleep.

I was the only one of us who would dream sweetly.

0o0

Rachel's soft, warm body was pressed against his, her chest heaved regularly and her left arm was draped over his waist. Suddenly, she looked younger than just weeks before, and a layer of peacefulness covered her beautiful face.

Sam should have found peace, too; he had his soul back. He had a wonderful daughter. He was going to marry the woman he loved, who would stand with him through whatever evil crap was to come their way, whatever hell the demons decided to raise.

Little did Rachel know hell was sleeping beside her already.

'Or does she and just doesn't care?' Was Sam's last thought before he unwillingly fell asleep.

It didn't take the memories long to come back.

They returned in vicious clarity and intensity and trapped him inside his own mind. Images of eternal fires, of choking on air that wasn't there, of skin carved off his skin just to reappear and the process to be repeated, of dying over and over, but never escaping; they all crashed down on him and tore down any shield he might have built up.

They voided all the happiness, all the hope and all the strength Rachel had given him and left him right where he started: Broken.


	13. Settling Scores

**I've received so many great reviews; your feedback blew me away, thank you so so much! :) **

**Thanks also for favoriting and alerting, it all makes me squirrelly with joy. :D **

**###**

That night Sam's nightmares started.

I knew they were bound to haunt him sooner or later, I just hadn't expected it to be so soon.

I didn't wake from screams or cries of pain in the middle of the night, but of the restlessness of the body beside me. Invisible waves of terror radiated off Sam's body and woke me from the deepest sleep I had had in a long time.

I propped myself up on one elbow and looked at my fiancé. Even in the dimness of the night, I saw the unknown terrors and agony in his eyes, sensed the rigidness of his body as sat up beside me.

"Sam…" Cautiously I reached out a hand and gently laid it on his arm.

"Just go back to sleep. I'm fine."

I flinched at the coldness in his voice. I had so hoped to never hear it again. "Honey…"

He shrugged off my hand and stood up, noiselessly moving through the darkness as was his hunter's nature. Quietly the door clicked twice, once when opened and once when it fell back into its lock. Even the nightly hustle of the city that crept through the walls couldn't fill the silence that followed.

I pushed off the covers, shivering slightly as the cool air bit my naked skin and followed Sam.

My living room laid in darkness, the furniture only black outlines. Amidst them, standing in front of the window, a huge shadow staring out onto the same Bay that we had this afternoon gazed lazily upon.

I shivered again, not quite able to determine whether the coldness came from within or from around me. Sam didn't move, didn't even turn his head as I approached him. I laid a hand on his shoulder and flinched when I felt his muscles tense dismissively, almost hostile, as if he couldn't bear the touch. Despite the snowball forming in my heart at that, I kept my hand where it was and stood next to him. I decided to say nothing but waited for him to speak first.

"It's only going to get worse, Ral."

I almost flinched at the shattered strength in his voice, the despair and bitterness. "Tell me what I can do."

"There's _nothing_ you can do," Sam nearly hissed, "You weren't down there, Rachel, you didn't see what I saw, what I suffered for decade after decade."

I had only caught a glimpse, once, when Castiel had read my soul; it had been enough to make me crumble. If Sam's soul really remembered everything from the year it had spent in the Devil's Cage… I blinked away a tear. I would have liked to offer comforting words, or anything to ease his pain: but I couldn't. Because there was nothing I could do or say that would help Sam.

So I went with the only option I had left: I stayed with him, waited for the bloody aftertaste of his nightmares to wear off enough as that I could say something without stepping on a landmine that dug deeper into his wounds.

It took two hours.

After the first, I dared to carefully snake my arms around his waist, which he let happen. After another thirty minutes he hugged me in return.

At four in the morning, he finally spoke again.

"You're freezing, Rachel."

I let out an inner sigh of relief at the warmth and care in his voice.

"Let's get back to bed." Sam could even muster up a smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.

He took me into his arms, his body warmed mine more than the covers could ever have, and I dozed off into a frail state of sleep. I would have woken within the fraction of a second had Sam shown signs of nightmares again, ready to hold him and wait for his pain to pass.

The rest of the night passed uneventful, though; I never figured out whether it was because Sam slept dreamlessly or because he never fell back asleep.

Sometime during the night or early morning, he must have stood up again, because when I opened my eyes, I found him leaning against the headrest and Hazel sleeping peacefully in his arm.

My heart gave a joyful jump at this scene; it finally got what it had always craved. A family. So I hadn't quite gotten it the usual way, nor was it really an ordinary family, but that wasn't what mattered, anyways.

"She squints her eyes the same way you do when you sleep," Sam noted amusedly as way of 'good morning'.

"I do not."

"Do, too. And you call out my name."

"I _most certainly_ do not."

"I'll record it next time."

"If that's the only thing you record of what happens behind closed bedroom doors…" I grinned and trailed kisses up his chest provocatively.

"Whoa, hey, Rachel, not in front of the baby." Sam grabbed my hand that had snuck down his firm abdomen. From the look on his face I could tell he wasn't disinclined for a little 'tête-à-tête' but with his soul, his morals had returned, too, which included no sex while the daughter was in the same room.

"Prude," I teased and hopped out from under the covers. "Should you decide to trust your brother with our daughter for a while, I'll be in the shower."

Seductively slowly, I stripped out of my shirt and shorts before I stepped into the bathroom.

"You're a terrible tease, Rachel, anybody ever tell you that?" Sam called after me.

"If you weren't so stuck up, I wouldn't have to resort to these means," I grinned and stuck my head through the door. "So, I'm going to shower now. If you're lucky, I'll wait with the soaping."

I smiled at the groaning grunt next-door. I didn't have to wait long; one minute later, Sam's arms snaked around my naked waist from behind, his lips placing hot kisses all over my body.

Burying my hands in Sam's wet hair and kissing drops of water from his lips, it occurred to me that this was our first shower together. Now I know that sounded like no big deal, but it kind of turned the spotlight on the fact that, neutrally observed, Sam and I really based our relationship - our _engagement_ - on a few years of loose friendship at college (which seemed ages ago) and some weeks during which Sam inconveniently lacked his soul.

The imprint on our souls was broken, we weren't 'heavenly connected' or anything of that sort. So, yeah, it was crazy as hell that we were headed off to a future together.

But soul mates or not, this was right. One of the perks of love was that it didn't have to be rational.

"Stop thinking so much. There isn't a rational explanation for everything," Sam mumbled as he pressed a kiss to the very sensitive spot behind my ear.

"Out of my head, now."

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm not reading thoughts. You're just doing that adorable pout of your lips that tells me you can't figure something out."

I smiled to myself; in the end, it didn't matter how long someone knew you, it's how _well_ they knew you that mattered. "I think you missed your calling, Sam. You'd have made a great psychoanalyst or psychiatrist."

Sam laughed. "Yeah, not so much. Usually, I'm on the other side of the couch."

When we dried off half an hour later, I debated whether to bring up last night or not. Since Sam seemed to be in a good moment at the moment, I decided I wouldn't.

'There's the slight possibility this was a one-time thing,' I thought, though I wasn't able to convince even myself, which showed just how believable that possibility was. I might as well believe in the Easter bunny.

"You know, you two really should work on your parental instincts," Dean greeted us. He sat at the kitchen table, Hazel on his arm, eating some fatty, carb-overloaded diner breakfast that would make his cholesterol level shoot through the roof. "I could have taken off with your daughter while you were in the shower working on a sibling for Hazel and you wouldn't even have noticed."

"I so appreciate your respect of our privacy."

"_You_ said yes to being part of this family," Dean grinned as he handed my daughter back to me.

I maturely stuck my tongue out at him. After I'd poked at the food and swallowed a few bites of greasy sausage, my stomach revolted and refused digesting just one more bite of artery-clogging food.

"Talking about family…" I started. I hadn't been able to talk about it yesterday, but now I wanted to get it out so I could close that chapter of my life once and for all. "Before you killed the angels, I mean that night it all ended – or started, or whatever – they told me something about my family. Or rather, families."

The brothers looked at me curiously, though with a wary edge, like a hawk hovering over its prey.

"Turns out I was adopted. The good news about that would be that I can honestly say I have no genetic connection to those SOBs. The bad news is that I don't know what I'm throwing into the mix, what I'm passing on to Hazel," I looked at Sam as I said that last part, to make sure he'd understand I was referring to his question last night. Then I looked at Hazel and back at Sam and Dean: "The angel said I carried on a 'useful bloodline', though it's highly diluted. Whatever that means. Anyways, I just wanted to get that out in the open."

A short silence filled the room, only Hazel's happy gurgles were to be heard as I absent-mindedly softly rocked her on my arm.

"You want me to find them?"

"What?" I looked at Sam as if he'd just suggested I die my hair pink.

"I can hack into any adoption register, maybe we'd find your biological parents."

I was about to refuse when Hazel grabbed my forefinger like she always did, and as I watched her yawn and close her eyes, it occurred to me that this might be the only chance she had at having grandparents. "I…"

On the other hand, _I_ didn't want to meet them. "Damn it, I don't know."

"You know, Ral, this is nothing you've got to decide here and now."

"Yes, it is, because if I don't do it now, I'll drag this on with me forever." I took a deep breath, "So: Thanks for offering, Sam, really. But I don't want to know them."

"Not to intrude, Rachel, but your biological parents might be the only grandparents Hazel has. Now I'm not saying she'll miss anything growing up without, but maybe it's something she'd like," Dean cautiously threw in.

"Don't you think I know that?" I replied weakly, "But they didn't want me back then, why would they want me now, or a granddaughter for that matter?"

"You know, Ral, there are many possible reasons why they could have decided to give you up for adoption." Sam took my cold hand in his. "Apart from that, they're the only ones who might have answers."

"I know, I know. It's just that… I don't want to hope and then have it dissolve into nothingness again; that they're dead, locked up in some prison for double-homicide, or that they want nothing to do with their daughter who suddenly shows up after 27 years. I've had enough of family drama. Besides… they have never been part of my life so far, why should I need them now? I have found my family. I neither want nor need my parents to be a part of it."

"Okay." Sam nodded and kissed the sensitive inside of my wrist. That simple word combined with that simple sign of affection was enough to assure me he'd back me up whatever my decision was. He trusted me to make the right one.

Sam cared about _me_ alone, not my shady background or lack thereof.

Unconditional love felt…strange. The good kind of strange. The 'I won the lottery' good kind of strange.

"Name a state."

"What?" I asked, again with an expression on my face as if this time, Sam had suggested I die my hair blue instead.

A mischievous grin played around Sam's lips. "Humour me."

I looked at Dean, hoping he could tell me what had gotten into his brother, but he looked even more clueless than I did. In fact, the look on his face implied he thought his brother ought to get a padded room.

"Okay, um… Tennessee?"

"Alright."

"Sam, what the-"

"Nothing."

I shook my head. I knew when I'd lost a case. "I've got to go out and make a few arrangements, but I suppose we can leave by tomorrow."

"So soon?"

"Yeah, well, nothing's really keeping us here. I mean, I bought this apartment fully furnished, and I'm going to engage a real estate agent who'll take care of the sale for me, I'm in no rush to quit since I'm on paid leave, anyhow, and I think the sooner we'll be out of here the better."

"And where are we going exactly?"

"Wherever the road takes us, I guess, until we figure out something more permanent," I smiled, "Anyhow, I'll be just a few hours."

I got up and carefully handed Hazel to Sam and kissed her forehead. "You be good, sweetie." I kissed Sam. "You, too."

"I'll try me best," He chuckled. When I saw him like that, it was almost as if the Sam who'd taken two hours to recover from his nightmares had been just a nightmare of my own.

0o0

"I thought Rachel said she didn't want have anything to do with her parents," Dean commented as he caught Sam researching in the database of some adoption agency.

"Yes, but she didn't explicitly forbid me to look for them."

"Sam…" Dean said warningly. He was determined not to let his brother slip onto the 'keeping secrets' line again. You should think he'd have learned how much secrets destroyed.

"Just curious. I'm not going to meet them. Even though I'd really like to, to tell them what the hell they were thinking giving Rachel up and giving her to that crazy-ass family."

"You know, Sam, if Rachel weren't so stubborn and had a heart of gold, your own daughter might be in an adoptive family right now, too."

Sam flinched ever so slightly. "Thanks for pointing that out, Dean."

"I'm not blaming you, I mean you didn't even know about Hazel. I'm just saying that maybe Rachel was right and we should just let it be. She doesn't even want to know about them, Sam! And I don't think you're doing yourself a favour by going behind her back."

"I'm not… going behind her back, I'm just…"

"Sam, you're _building_ something here. Let sleeping monsters rest."

The younger Winchester stared at the laptop screen for a moment, before he raised his eyes to his brother. "I'm just concerned what her bloodline might mean for Hazel. And for Rachel."

"Suppose you find out Rachel's carrying on a destiny-loaded bloodline like ours, which, combined with the Winchester line, would seriously suck for Hazel-"

"Are you trying to make me feel better?"

Dean ignored Sam's interruption. "Suppose it _is_ like that. Would it change anything, Sam?"

The younger Winchester sighed and looked at his daughter. The thought of destiny weighing on her shoulders some day… but he'd never let her have Dean's and his life. "No," He admitted, "It wouldn't change anything. Still, wouldn't it be better if we knew if-"

"Sam. No. Self-fulfilling prophecies, man."

"Yeah, yeah. You're right."

Sam wouldn't let it rest completely, though. From experience, he knew that no matter how deep some things or people were buried, that didn't stop them from coming around back and bite you.

"Now what was that talk about Tennessee?" Dean frowned and poured himself another cup of coffee.

0o0

"Cass? Um, I have a little favour to ask… so if you could, well, shine down, that would really be great? Please?"

I just hoped to God I really was alone in the parking garage. Last thing I needed was my nosy New Age neighbour Ms MacAlister thinking she's finally converted me and to offer me crystals to communicate with the other side.

"Hello, Rachel."

"Geeezus! You think you could appear _in front_ of me next time instead of behind me?"

"Jesus does not have the power of teleportation."

"Figure of speech," I rolled my eyes. For Christmas, this angel would get a dictionary; Enoquian – slang, slang – Enoquian. "Hi, Cass."

"What can I do for you?"

"I need to do a little something for Dean, but I don't want him to know about that. You mind teleporting me to…?" I didn't even get to finish my sentence when Castiel already laid a hand on my forehead.

Seconds and a very unpleasant swooshy feeling later, I stood on a porch, facing a green painted door. "Thank you," I mumbled, still trying to get my equilibrium to work for me again.

"Good luck."

Then I was alone, standing on stranger's porch and no clue what I should say, much less if she'd listen. I had to try, though, I'd promised Dean. Well, I'd promised him I'd do everything I could to make it up to him, so here I stood. Without him, I wouldn't even be alive, much less dwell in happiness as I enjoyed my slice of apple pie. Least I could do was give him half the cake.

I took a look around the nice neighbourhood as if the trimmed hedges could tell me how to start this conversation. Surprisingly, the stupid hedges refused to converse with me.

"Well, here goes nothing," I sighed and rang the doorbell.

At first, nothing happened, but then a pretty brunette in her mid-thirties opened the door. "Hello?"

"Hi, um, are you Lisa Braden?"

"Yes. How can I help you?" She leaned against the doorframe, eyeing me neutrally. If I wasn't mistaken, though, there was a suspicious glance in her eyes.

"Hey, I'm Rachel. You don't know me, but I'm a friend of Dean's-"

Lisa tensed and took a step backwards, the neutral mask on her face making way to a hurt and dismissive expression.

"Just hear me out. I'm not here because he sent me; he doesn't even know I'm here. I came to talk to you, not to convert."

Lisa considered for a moment, and I could nearly see how her mind evaluated me, main criteria being my sanity. I must have passed the test to some degree, as her face softened. "I believe you. Dean isn't the type to send others to fight his battles… but if he didn't send you, then why are you here?"

"I just want you to know some things… about hunting and what it really means not only for hunters but the people they love."

"I don't want to have anything to do with that. Not anymore."

"I understand that, Lisa, believe me, I do. But it isn't that simple. And if you feel anything at all for Dean and if the past year meant anything to you, you'll let me explain."

She seemed to be about to turn me away, but then she must have remembered the happy days she and Dean undoubtedly had had. "Alright," She nodded, "Come in."

"Thank you." I followed her through the hall into a living room that seemed to have been recently re-decorated; or rather, as if they'd just moved in. The furniture hadn't grown on the room yet, didn't radiate off that homey feeling.

I should know; I had spent my life in cold rooms like these. Yet, what made Lisa's living room different was that it held the promise of change; this _would_ become a home. Soon.

"Can I offer you anything?"

"No, thank you, I don't want to be of any inconvenience."

Lisa sat down on the armchair while I took the couch. It was an awkward situation, really, but I had built a kind of immunity to those, the way you're immune to a disease once you've had it often enough.

"So, how do you know Dean?" The way she said his name told me more than books could have; she still cared about him, a great deal at that. Why shouldn't she?

I weighed my next words carefully. Lisa had an abhorrence of hunting, that much wasn't hard to guess; additionally, she wasn't filled with love towards Sam, either. That didn't leave me a lot of other options unless I would lie; and lies wouldn't get me anywhere in the long hold.

So it was all cards open. Well, almost all cards, anyways.

"I was hunting with them for a while…"

"You're a hunter?" Lisa asked sharply. It couldn't have been more obvious she wanted me out of the house right now. Couldn't say I blamed her.

"I was, for a long time. I turned from that life ten years ago." When she seemed soothed, I continued: "I know Sam from college and he, um, showed up at my doorstep a year ago. Since then, everything just sort of…happened. I got back to hunting a few weeks ago. But I'm out again, kind of, at least. Anyways, that's how I met Dean."

"Why did you start hunting again?"

Alright, here goes the card 'I'm an instable person with self-confidence issues who chooses boyfriends with questionable emotional balance and sanity': "To save Sam."

"Save…" Lisa shook her head. "I'm sorry. I don't get it."

Playing the 'Yes, I've got to reconsider my taste in men' card: "I love Sam. In fact, we're engaged, but that just aside. I know you think I'm nuts, and frankly, maybe you're not so wrong. But it's not how you think… Things changed, a lot, in the past few days."

"I don't follow."

"Lisa… how much do you know?"

"Of what?"

"Of what the Apocalypse and what happened after that. About Sam."

"I'm updated on the whole Apocalypse thing," Her tone was subdued, "And I know what it did to Dean, seeing his brother go to hell. I used to think we could get past that… but then Sam came back." Lisa huffed humourlessly.

"Yes. Without a soul."

"What?"

I nodded slowly. "Sam was brought back, but without a soul. Dean and I've been trying to get it back for weeks. It hurts like hell, knowing the person you love doesn't care about you, and I was taking it even worse than Dean was. Hunting takes everything out of you, and the only thing that keeps you going is people you love, people that are worth fighting for. I didn't have anyone, but Dean did and still does, _besides_ Sam: You and Ben. I know that Sam showing up again was messing up your relationship, but…"

"That's putting it mildly. Dean and his brother have the unhealthiest relationship I've ever known, and there's just no way anyone can lead a functional relationship with them being so obsessed with each other."

"To some parts, I agree with you." I took a deep breath, "But, Lisa, can we really expect anything else?"

"What do you mean?"

"Dean and Sam only ever had each other to count on their whole lives. Dean practically raised Sam, and they've each died for the other, probably more than once. I know that if it came down to it, Sam would die for Dean in a heartbeat, and even though it hurts like hell to accept that he'd leave me to save his brother, I can understand. I will never hold a place like Dean's in his heart, but that doesn't mean Sam doesn't care about me. What I'm trying to say is… what do we expect, really? We were part of their lives for a few years tops, while they grew up together, had each other's back in every yet so dangerous situation and spent their lives looking out for each other."

Lisa's face softened, and I had the feeling she'd known this all along, deep down. It just took a lot of strength to admit it.

"Lisa… from experience, I can tell you that as a hunter, you don't have a lot to hold on to. Family actually might be the only thing. And I know that family doesn't end with blood, it doesn't even begin with blood, just like I know that Dean would die for you and Ben as readily as he would for Sam. Now, I'm not saying that a hunter is the easiest and most stable man to be in a relationship with, nor that it will be a particularly harmonious and easy one, but it definitely is worth it."

"You grew up with this life, right?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Is it a life you'd want your children to live? Is a world of monsters one you'd want your kids to grow up in?"

"Not if I had the choice, maybe. But it all depends on _how_ you raise them into it, and I know Dean wouldn't let Ben get hurt, should Ben _choose_ to want to hunt. It's a decision you, Ben and Dean can make together, you know. Nobody's deciding for you.

If you think about it, they'll never be safer than when they've got knowledge of what's lurking in the dark. My children might grow up with a little less innocence, but they'll know how to protect themselves, and that lets me sleep more peacefully."

Lisa looked at me intensely. "Would you maybe have a cup of coffee with me?"

"I'd love to," I smiled.

She disappeared into the kitchen and returned with two steaming mugs, handed me one and sat down again. "I take it you got Sam's soul back?"

"Yes. Else I don't think I'd be here. I'd have died of a broken heart before that," I let the warming liquid run through my body and enjoyed the warmth the mug radiated to my cold hands.

"You said you dropped out… then how do you and Sam work it out?"

"Well, since trying to get a Winchester stop hunting is about as effective as putting out a wildfire with a watering can, I didn't even bother. So I'll be taking care of our daughter while Sam goes hunting…." I trailed off.

"You think that'll work?"

"Yes. We'll just _make_ it work. I'm not saying it'll be easy, but what is these days." I took another sip of coffee and then added cautiously: "You know… I think Dean and you could work it out just as well. You have been for a while."

"Yeah, until I said so many horrible things I wished had never left my lips."

"That wasn't your fault, I believe… it was a truth curse. Dean doesn't hold that over you, you know. Lisa, you've given Dean more of a family life than anyone ever before. He loves you, and I might be overstepping my boundaries here, but I believe you love him, too. I think you two could make it work."

Lisa sighed and brought up her legs underneath her. I considered it a gesture of trust; as it showed she didn't feel as if she had to be on her guard around me. "I do. It's kind of hard not to." She smiled; probably memories of happy days with Dean, numerous they would have been, crossed her mind.

"I do want him in my life, despite what I might have said back then. But… Apart from him being gone an awful lot, risking his life most of the time, there'd still be the problem of the monsters that tend to be out to get him, and therewith maybe us."

"You really think Dean would let anything happen to you and Ben?" I raised my eyebrows.

"No, of course not. But while he's doing what he thinks is best for us, he more or less puts us on lock down."

"Piece of advice? Tell him you know he wants to keep you safe but that you need to live your life. You could mention that you believe the more you push something away, the quicker it comes around and backstabs you, so maybe he should just let it be... and let him teach you a trick or two, he'll feel better."

"I did," Lisa sighed.

"Some things only take after a few repetitions…" I hinted discreetly. "Something else: Should you let Dean back into your life, you might want to tell him again you know he's trying to protect you but that you're well able to do so yourself. Some things, nobody can protect you of."

"As if he'd believe me." It sounded affectionate, and I agreed with her: No way would Dean cut down his protective instincts just because you told him to.

"Still, it'll help him accept the fact you won't let yourself be put on lock-down." I winked at her. "One day."

Lisa let out a small chuckle.

"But I don't mean to rush you to any decisions, Lisa. It's all up to you." I paused before I quietly added: "Hunting is a dangerous job, and believe me, I would know. But the last thing a hunter would let happen is his family getting hurt." I set the empty cup down on the coffee table. "I've taken enough of your time, Lisa. As I said, I didn't come here to play Cupid; I just wanted you to know why Sam and Dean have the strong bond they have and why we will never be able to change it. And why hunters do what they do. They _risk_ their life to save others, yes, and that doesn't make it easy for us who're left behind. But they'd _give_ their life for their family and would never let them come to any harm. Living with a hunter means work and deprivations in the normalcy department, but if anything was ever worth it, it's this."

Lisa saw me out. At the threshold she said: "Rachel…"

"Yes?"

"What would you do if Sam and you couldn't make it work?"

"That's a bridge we can only cross once we've walked the path that got us there. But because I love Sam and our daughter, and I know that he loves Hazel and me, I know we'll take a sharp turn _before_ we get there."

...

'Angel travel so isn't going on my list of favourite things to do,' I pressed a hand to my somersaulting stomach.

"Thanks, Cass. Oh, and this time, I'd appreciate it if you _really_ didn't tell Sam or Dean any of this."

"As you wish," The angel nodded his head.

"Thank you," I smiled and gave him a hug, chuckling at his awkward rigidness. Castiel would be a sucky Cupid. "Check in with us sometime soon, okay?"

"Of course. I will be in touch." After his standard goodbye line, Cass was gone again, leaving me alone in the parking garage.

Well, not quite alone.

"Rachel! Oh, Rachel! It is so good to see you again! The spirits told me you had gone to the Niagara Falls in hope of clearing your soul!"

Laugh, cry, scream, run, or all of the above?

"Hello, Ms MacAlister," I sighed.

"Did you find salvation, dearie?"

"Yes, with a cherry on top," I smiled sweetly, "Goodbye."

"Rachel, wait, you need to-"

I luckily didn't hear the rest of her sentence as I already jumped into the elevator.

Yes, you've heard right, I voluntarily stepped into a metal monster. I still felt queasy and uneasy, but it wasn't unbearable anymore. Funny how some events in your life qualify your fears.

The positive side-effect was that it didn't take me ten minutes to get to my apartment anymore.

"You were gone for a long time," Sam noted.

"If that's the first step to overprotective measures, better quit it now," I smiled and kissed him lovingly.

"Do I look suicidal to you? Last thing I'm going to do is tie you down, as much as I'd like to."

"If I wasn't going to marry you already, I would do so now." I kissed his cheek, "Where's Dean?"

"On the phone."

"With?"

"Lisa," Sam replied, obviously genuinely happy for his brother. "She called him five minutes ago."

"You don't say," I pulled Sam's half-full cup of coffee towards me, too lazy to make one for myself.

Sam looked up from the papers he'd just been studying. "Rachel."

"Mhm?"

"You wouldn't happen to have anything to do with that?"

"With what?"

Sam's eye twitched as he stared at me mercilessly.

"Sam, come on, I don't even know where they live, let alone would I've gotten there and back again within a few hours. Besides, what should I have told her, anyways?"

Sam obviously didn't believe one word of what I said. He leaned back, shook his head and returned his attention to the print-outs. "You're unbelievable."

"So I've heard."

"Yeah, only this time, I think you outdid yourself."

I smiled in satisfaction. "What's all that?" I nudged towards the various folders and stacks of paper beside Sam.

He grinned mischievously, just like he had this morning. "Lynchburg or Jefferson City? Of course, we could also go to Winchester, which I personally find ironic."

"Sam, what the-"

"Four bedrooms sound good to you?"

"Sam? Are you feeling okay? Cause you ain't making any sense right now."

Sam wordlessly pulled me onto his lap. I looked at the sheets spread out before us, and suddenly had to laugh. "You went house-shopping in Tennessee?" I pulled the outline of one of the houses towards me – and immediately fell in love with the two-story, Southern style house.

"Not just that. A small law firm in Lynchburg's looking for a secretary in the mornings, in case you're interested… we could put Hazel in day-care for that time, in case I'm on a hunt. Unless of course you want to-"

I shut Sam up by kissing him. "It's perfect. When're we leaving?"

"-change your mind about that." Sam finished.

"Hell I will. Let me call the real estate agent." I beamed, "Oh, before I do that: how do you like this one?" I showed him the house I already envisioned us living in.

"You seem to love it," Sam kissed my neck tenderly. "Which is more than perfect for me."

I gave him one last hard kiss before I jumped up and grabbed the phone to make the necessary calls. To think that just a few weeks ago, I'd laying broken on a motel bathroom floor, close to overdosing… now I was about to buy a house with my fiancé.

Curious turns life took.

**###**

**So there will probably be another chapter or two, thank you all for sticking with me this far! :) **


	14. Almost Absolutely

There are good days, bad days, and then there are the other 300 days of the year which are somewhere in-between.

A good day was when Sam and I got married in the town of Winchester.

A good day was when Dean got back together with Lisa, for good.

A good day was when Sam and I first walked through our future home and I envisioned how the rooms would look once we furnished them and I could finally press my own, personal stamp on our home.

A good day was when Sam, Hazel and I cuddled on our new couch and watched old horror movies (to have a good laugh) or NCIS.

A good day was when Dean, Lisa, Ben, Castiel, Bobby, Sam, Hazel and I celebrated Christmas together.

A good day was when I came home from work and found Sam dozing on the couch, Hazel on his chest.

A day in-between was when Sam assembled the furniture for our home and my pregnancy test turned out negative.

A day in-between was when I failed horribly at cooking and we had take-away in front of the TV instead (and Sam switched to cook shows with the amused remark: 'See, honey, that's how it's supposed be done', to which I replied 'You're welcome to take over in the kitchen, Jamie Oliver'. That was the end of this discussion.).

A day in-between was when Sam left for a hunt and called at night to say everything was fine and that he loved me and Hazel.

A day in-between was when Sam and I had a loud fight, didn't speak for the rest of the day just to have wonderful make-up sex at night.

A bad day was when Sam came back in the middle of the night nearly bleeding to death, with Dean hardly looking any better, and I had to patch them up while trying not to freak out with worry.

A bad day was when Sam didn't call from a hunt and I went crazy from fear.

A bad day was when I woke up and Sam was shaking with the ferocity of his nightmares beside me.

A bad day was when Sam started drinking.

…

'_What a person loves most will end up being the thing __that destroys her.'_

I couldn't remember where I had read that quote, I just knew it was a Greek saying, and it had crossed my mind a few times in the past months. Never had I been so close to finding out the true core of it than tonight.

It was an early February night, it had snowed heavily all week and the white coat muffled all sound outside, sending this little town into a kind of mystic fairy tale land.

It was a Saturday night and Sam was home for the weekend. Dean had driven to Lisa to spend the days there; each brother was with his respective family. It was almost normal and peaceful.

Almost.

I watched the snowflakes falling lazily, as if they were in no rush to arrive on earth. Sam's breathing beside me was steady, though he wasn't asleep yet.

"Do you think they look down on us sometimes?"

"Who?" Sam rumbled.

"Jess and Jack."

Sam shrugged. "I personally don't think so. Heaven doesn't provide looking glasses. Though, if it comforts you, I think Jess wouldn't mind us being together."

"Was it that obvious that that was what I needed to hear?"

"It's only natural. She was your best friend."

Yeah, so _she_ might not mind, because she had been sweet, gentle and kind, and we had loved each other. Jack was a whole other business… he had disliked Sam from the get-go. I had a feeling that even if I should meet Jack in heaven, no reconciliation would wait for me there.

"You shouldn't worry too much, Rachel. He'd want you to be happy. If he wouldn't, he never deserved you in the first place." Sam kissed my forehead, "And now let's talk about something else."

I frowned; he almost sounded as if he didn't want to talk about this with me. "Sam, we always talk about everything, since when do you want to change subjects?"

Sam sighed, exasperated. "Rachel, I just thought we were done with it, okay? If there's anything else you'd like to add, please do, if not, let's just move on."

I sat up and looked at him with indignation. "What's gotten into you?"

Sam looked at the ceiling, but not at me. From the way he narrowed his eyes I knew he was currently keeping his temper from getting the better of him. "Nothing. It's just been a long day. Sorry I snapped at you."

I couldn't hear even a hint of sincerity in his words, nor has it been a long day (unless getting up at 12 and having breakfast on the couch, then going for a walk in the snow before heading home for a hot chocolate qualified as a 'long day'), but I knew that arguing further would only make it worse. So I complied and lay back down, pulling the covers up to my neck.

This ended up being one of the few nights I didn't cuddle up to Sam, and one of the even fewer nights when he didn't pull me into his arms when I didn't.

Maybe, if I had leaned against him despite my annoyance, I would have woken sooner and prevented worse; but in the end, it probably didn't matter. I wouldn't have been able to stop it in the long hold.

I woke up in the middle of the night and was just about to fall asleep again when I found the bed empty beside me. Suddenly wide awake, I untangled myself from the sheets, pulled on a sweater and stepped out onto the corridor.

I heard the TV running downstairs. That was odd. Sam had never watched TV when he awoke at night; even if it had taken me a bit to follow him and stay with him until the nightmares' aftermath wore off, he'd never switched it on.

I quickly checked up on Hazel before I descended the stairs. "Sam?"

No reply.

"Sam, what-" I died a little inside when I found my husband drunk on the couch, staring blankly with unfocused eyes onto the TV screen, a nearly empty whiskey bottle in hand. Helplessness ruled until overthrown by determination and anger. "Sam, what the hell?"

He looked up at me, and his uncaring, hostile and desperate eyes couldn't have hurt me more than had he hit me. "What?" He challenged.

"'_What'_? You're downing whiskey at three in the morning! You're dead-drunk, Sam, and damn near passing out! And you're asking me what's wrong?"

"So? This is a lot more relaxing than sleep ever was," He shot back bitterly.

"You think alcohol will solve anything? It's just making it worse!" I wrenched the bottle out of his hand, which earned me a blazing glare from him.

"How the _hell_ would you know? You don't have hell haunting your sleep."

"No, but I'm living through it every time you do."

I let out a small cry when Sam suddenly stood up, shockingly steady considering the amount of alcohol in his blood, and burned his angry, wary eyes into me. I took a step backwards. I wasn't scared of him, but damn close to. "How _dare_ you say that? You think anything comes close to what I've seen in the Cage, what I've been going through during the fucking Apocalypse? You don't have a damn clue. So don't talk about hell as if you'd know what it's like."

I had trouble fighting back my tears. This wasn't _my_ Sam talking, I knew, but maybe that was a reason why it hurt even worse. Every time he had nightmares, I lost him for a while. What if one day, he wouldn't come back?

"Oh, I don't?" I asked bitterly. "Just _how_ do you think it feels seeing the man I love destroy himself and not be able to get through to him? You don't think that's a kind of hell, too?"

"I don't see why you should care. You knew this would happen, Rachel. I warned you."

"Yes, and have you ever heard me regretting my decision to marry you? I swore I would stick with you no matter how bad it gets, and I will, but damnit, Sam, _take_ my help and don't push me away every time!"

"How many times do I have to tell you nobody can help me with this?"

The mere smell of liquor that radiated off him made me want to cry; but I couldn't give in, wasn't allowed to show weakness if I was to save us both from the devouring black hole. "You just don't _want_ to believe that you don't have to shoulder this alone, do you? Why won't you realize that the people who love you will help you through this if you'd just let them?"

"Don't bother fighting a lost cause," Sam's voice was hollow, empty, and he lunged for the whiskey bottle I still held in my hand.

"No. Stop, Sam. Enough!" I pushed him away from me, trying not to feel the sting the hostility in his eyes caused me, how it jabbed deep into my heart.

"Why don't you just leave me alone and go sleep, Rachel? Not like you have to be afraid of eternal fires burning your flesh away."

Cold dismiss in his voice, cutting into me like knives. Despite that, I noticed how this was the first time Sam ever revealed anything about what he saw in those nightmares. I would have liked to see this as a first break-through, but it couldn't have been more obvious that Sam wasn't in a heart-to-heart, caring-and-sharing kind of mood. So it just dug deeper into the wounds.

It would have been the easiest to just walk away. But how could I ever look at myself and my daughter again if I did that?

If I didn't take Sam at his worst, I surely didn't deserve him at his best.

So I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I'm not leaving, Sam. Never. No matter how hurtful you get. Now take a cold shower and get back to bed."

Maybe his mind began to clear, or he was just too fed up with me to argue; either way, he huffed acidly and, with a last burning glare at me, thundered up the stairs. I heard the water of the shower running and woke from my stupor; I poured the remaining puddle of whiskey down the drain, threw out the empty liquor bottle, turned off the TV and ascended the stairs. My legs were as heavy as lead, increasing in weight with every step I took, and I hated myself for admitting I dreaded each second until Sam sobered up.

"You're happy?" Sam snapped as he stepped out of our bathroom, his hair still damp from the shower.

"Far from it, but you don't seem to care right now."

I waited by the door until Sam had unwillingly got back to bed. "If you think this is all it takes to make me fall asleep, think again."

"Even so, at least the neighbours won't see you passed out on the couch when they're going for their morning run," I remarked bitterly. I was glad Hazel was still too young to understand any of the shouted words her parents had fired at each other, and that she was too young to walk and therewith might walk in on scenes no child should witness.

I got in on my side of the bed, though it felt nowhere as safe and home as just one night before. I might as well have gotten into a bed in a hostel, next to strangers I didn't know and couldn't trust.

Silently the tears fell, in tune with the snowflakes outside, and drenched my pillow.

The state I fell into could hardly be described as sleep and I was almost glad when it got light out and I could get up. Dread creeping up my spine, I turned around and looked at Sam; dread was immediately replaced with sadness.

Apparently, all the high proof poison in his system had induced a coma-like sleep; on the upside, he didn't seem bothered by nightmares for once. On the downside, he might realize that, too, and make a habit out of it.

In the dawning morning light that fell onto his sleeping form, Sam looked vulnerable and hurt. And I couldn't help him because the second he'd wake up, he'd build up a shield that warded me off and didn't let me through to him.

Deep shadows lay under his eyes, his face looked tired and bitter even in his sleep and he looked aged far beyond his 28 years. I bit my lips to hold back the sobs building up in my throat and reached out a hand to gingerly brush a strand of hair out of his face.

"Why won't you let me help you…?" I whispered.

I quietly stood up, wrapped myself in my silken robe and entered Hazel's room. Oblivious to her parents' problems, my daughter slept peacefully in her crib. "I won't let any of this affect you, Hazel, I promise."

The doorbell ringing downstairs ripped me from my daze. As I quickly descended the stairs, I glanced at my watch. Who'd call on us at eight in the morning on a Sunday?

Obviously, the same people who went running at 6 a.m. every single day.

"Rachel, I'm sorry to bother you so early…"

"No, it's okay. I was awake anyways," I ran a hand over my tired eyes, "Hey, Laura. What's up?"

"Well, nothing, really, Bill and I just came back from our run, and I wanted to make sure everything was okay with you."

The way Laura looked at me told me I should volunteer some information now, but I had no clue what she was referring to. "Yeah, everything's… fine. Why?"

Laura's brown eyes were sympathetic as she looked at me. "Sweetie… Remember our dog Jane has this bladder infection and I have to take her out every two hours… when we went for a walk last night, I heard Sam and you argue. At three in the morning. You sure everything's okay?"

"I…" I swallowed the lump in my throat that had built there unwanted. Last thing I wanted is rumours about a broken marriage circulating. "Everything's fine, we just had a little disagreement about whose turn it was to change Hazel's diapers."

"At that volume?" She arched a disbelieving eyebrow.

"We're very passionate people."

Laura sighed, "Right. Well, anyways, you know I'm always there if you need anything."

"Thanks, Laura," I smiled and hugged her.

"Hey, Sam and you coming to Ed's birthday party next week?" She turned around when she was already half-way down the driveway.

"Yes, I think so, unless my babysitter cancels last minute."

"Great, see you there the latest!"

I waved her off and closed the door behind me. I leaned against it and slid down until I cowered on the ground. The two shores my life had almost tore me apart at times; I would get caught in the torrent in-between when I tried crossing, and sometimes it would take me under.

I used to be able to successfully make casseroles for the neighbours and then patch my torn up husband up at night; I used to be able to work despite my tiredness after having spent the night up with Sam.

I used to be able to do it because I've had the perspective of things getting better one day; after last night, I wasn't so sure about it anymore.

'Stop being a whiner, Rachel, you knew this would happen. You knew it was _bound_ to happen one day. It will get better. You're just not allowed to stand by and watch Sam self-destruct like you did yourself back then. You have to be the one who stops him from jumping off that cliff, you have to be the one nobody was for you then.'

No, that wasn't quite true. Dean had been there, he'd pulled me back.

Dean.

For the fraction of a second, I considered calling him. Then I remembered he deserved his weekend off with his family and didn't need me dragging him into this. Maybe he already knew, though it seemed unlikely he wouldn't have warned me if he did.

Either way, _I_ would handle this. I was Sam's _wife_.

I hugged my legs and buried my face on my knees, feeling very cold and alone. I knew why only fairy tales ended with 'happily ever after'; in real life, there might be happy times, but no perfect happy ends. Bittersweet might be the best you got. Heaven always comes with a piece of hell.

At first, I didn't even perceive how he sat down beside me. I only realized it when he brushed my hair and pulled me into his arms. Wordlessly, I wrapped my arms around him and locked him in a tight embrace, my head pressed against his bare torso.

"I'm so sorry, Rachel."

I just buried my face in his chest and clung closer to him, all estrangement of past night forgotten. What should I have replied, anyways?

'I know' or 'Just tell me why?' or perhaps 'Don't you ever do that again'? Where did one of those answers end and the next one begin?

Sam stroked my hair, kissed the top of my head and intertwined our hands. I looked at the rings on our fingers and realized that one awful night, or even a hundred of them, would never be stronger than our love.

"I don't know about you, but I could use a good breakfast now," I smiled bravely and kissed him.

Sam smiled melancholically and brushed my cheek with his fingertips. "You don't need to lock it away, you know."

"Lock what away where?"

"Whatever you feel those nights… Be it anger, disappointment, hurt…" Sam didn't need to say what nights he was referring to. I tensed in his arms as he involuntarily conjured all those suppressed emotions to well up as one big wave.

"I know I've hurt you, and not just last night. I regret every word I threw at you. If I could take it all back, I would, believe me… Rachel, I'm sorry."

"It's-"

"And don't say it's okay, because it's not."

"But-"

"Just because I went through hell doesn't mean I should put you through the same. It isn't an excuse."

Sam laid an arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer to him, so close I could feel his heart beating against my cheek. It was the first time he talked about the nightmares by daylight; actually, it was the first time he talked about them at all. As much as his words soothed my aching heart, I couldn't deny that hammering voice inside my head that told me this was sober, loving Sam speaking, who might as well turn into drunk, bitter Sam this very night and void all reconciliation.

"You shouldn't have to go through this alone, Sam…"

"Maybe, but I shouldn't drag you into this, either."

"If not me, then who are you going to talk about this? Last time I checked, you weren't all too willing to get professional help."

Sam huffed, "You know as well as I do that all a psychiatrist is going to do is diagnose me with religious psychosis and get me a nice padded room."

"Great, so you see; that leaves me."

Sam kissed my forehead. "I'm not going to drag you down with me, period."

"Oh, so I'm just supposed to stand by and watch you fall, is that it?"

"Hazel needs at least one parent not on the verge of a complete mental breakdown." He had said it humorously, but I could see right through that.

Maybe it would be a good idea setting an ultimatum, since I was going nowhere with gentle pleading: Accept help, or Hazel and I will leave.

Not only would that solution have ripped my heart out, but it would just have kicked Sam right into the abyss he was close to falling into.

The other option? Wasn't so great, either; continue like before.

I felt that current dragging me under again…

"Sam… I'm not going to let you self-destruct. So you want to keep me out of that big black hole, you let me help you out of it."

Sam shook his head. His voice sounded subdued, wondering and almost sad: "Why are you doing this, Rachel? How did I deserve you going through all this crap for me?"

"I thought that was obvious," I smiled faintly and traced his jaw with my fingertips, "Because I love you."

"Yeah, I've been wondering about that, too… Why?"

"Because you caught me, like you promised that night one and a half years ago. You gave me the family I never had and always wanted, you made me finally feel at home. You took your soul back, for me, although you knew it would be damaged and that you'd suffer. Everything you're going through… in the end, that's all because of me. So you want me to just let you suffer alone? Sorry, but no damn way in hell."

"That tells me two things: One, I love you more than anything. Two: You've got no instinct of self-preservation." Sam concluded.

"That's why I need you to stick around." I pressed my lips to his in a loving, passionate kiss.

"Now, you mentioned a breakfast?"

"What do you want?"

"Are _you_ on the menu?"

I laughed and straddled him. "Not this morning, tiger."

Sam sighed dramatically, "Pity. Then I guess I'll have to settle for some coffee and pancakes."

"Sure. You mind getting Hazel while I make breakfast?"

"Will do." Sam kissed me one last time before we got up, I disappeared into the kitchen and Sam went upstairs to fetch our daughter.

As quickly as my world could drown in hurt, confusion and helplessness, as quickly it could come up again. A normal family breakfast followed that night of horror.

Well, almost normal, anyways.

"Looking for your next case?" I asked. Sam had a newspaper spread out in front of him which he studied with that adorable furrow between his brows he always got when he was lost in thought.

I was balancing Hazel on my lap and patiently fed her carrot mash.

Sam looked up. "Oh, well, not quite… We're not taking a case for another week."

I narrowed my eyes and looked intently at him. Dean and Sam were taking one case after the other, sometimes just a few days in-between, and suddenly they're taking a week off, a week in which people could die, and _then_ they expected me to buy that? "So you're just suddenly slowing down, let monsters be monsters and dwell in perfect family bliss?"

"Yeah, why not?" Sam shrugged, "Dean and I thought we'd take a little break."

"Nice try, Sam."

We measured each other, waiting for the other to give in first. I won.

"Alright, fine, maybe that's not the real reason," Sam admitted with a sigh.

"Then what is?" I reached for a napkin and wiped Hazel's mush-covered mouth. Apparently she preferred her food on her face rather than in her stomach.

Sam took a minute to answer, a minute in which his eyes fixed on our baby girl. "Hazel's six months birthday is in five days, Rachel…"

Oh. That's what this was about.

I bit my lips, leaned forward over the table and took Sam's hand. "Sam. I couldn't be happier you're staying for more than just two days, and I love you for being there for us two and protect us. Nonetheless you shouldn't forget Azazel's dead. We're safe. So if there are people out there dying, who need you and Dean, then you-"

"I'm not leaving you alone, Rachel, period."

Discussion pointless. To be honest, I was glad. I could protect myself well enough, but knowing Sam was with me was a whole new level of protection and safety.

More yet, I was granted a whole week with my husband. Sam didn't drink one drop during those days, and I was so relieved about that that I failed to see the reason behind that: He wouldn't risk letting his guard down when he expected an attack; like he was now. When that excitement wore off, it would start again.

At that time, I didn't know that, though, so I was abundantly happy.

On Monday, Sam, Hazel and I went to the mall to go shopping. It was the day I learned just why exactly men and women shouldn't go shopping together.

Everything was still fine in the supermarket, our first stop.

"What do you want for dinner tonight?" I asked as I pushed the cart through the aisles, Hazel grinning up at her parents.

"Um… anything, really, as long as you don't set it on fire again."

I elbowed my beloved husband in the ribs. "Hilarious, now make a productive suggestion."

"Peanut butter toasts."

I elbowed him again, harder. "I _hate_ peanuts! And toast isn't a dinner!"

"Ow, princess, that actually hurt."

"Good, I hope it leaves a bruise!"

"I love it when you go all wildcat," Sam grinned and trailed a hand up my waist as he kissed my neck. "Preferably in bed, but the supermarket's fine, too."

"You shameless, horn-" I complained, but Sam interrupted me with a cheeky grin and a kiss on my lips; "Yes, absolutely."

"Alright, since I'm getting nowhere with you, I'm deciding. Steak and salad tonight."

"And for dessert?" He raised his eyebrows lewdly.

I rolled my eyes. "Haven't decided on that yet. It's either 'Victoria's Secret Special' or 'Dessert Nunnery Style'. Depends on your further demeanour."

Sam chuckled and we finished our groceries in relative peace. We stored away the paper bags in the trunk of our car and then continued our stroll through the mall.

"Oh, wait, special offer," I said curtly, stopped abruptly and had disappeared in 'Topshop' within the fraction of a second. I just heard Sam's groaned 'God no', but I was already digging through the clothes racks.

Both arms full with tops, jeans, jackets and dresses I darted for the changing rooms just when Sam walked in, brooding expression on his face. "Rachel…"

"This'll just take two minutes. Well, maybe five."

Sam sighed and unwillingly followed me. Taking one of the seats in front of the dressing rooms, he looked at Hazel and said: "Promise me something, sweetheart. Don't inherit your mother's binge-shop attacks."

"Shut up, I'm not that bad!" I called through the curtain.

"Yes, she is, she just won't admit it."

"Excuse me; I can still hear you, Sam. FYI: curtains ain't soundproof, and don't you dare turn my own baby against me!" I stuck my head through the curtain, pressing a half-closed dress to my body. "Besides, I'm earning my own money, I can spend it anyway I want."

Sam grinned at me, then at Hazel. "What you are allowed to have inherited is your Mom's temper."

"You mind acknowledging me again? At least so far as that you'll zip up the dress?"

"Why? I like it just how it is now."

I looked down at the lilac silk hugging my body; it was a wonderful cut that accentuated my curves. Only that it revealed most of my bra right now since it was strapless; ergo, when it wasn't zipped up, all that held it in place was my hand that wasn't busy holding it together in the back.

"Sam Winchester, if you don't-"

"Oh, last name calling; that means she's serious." Yet, Sam didn't seem in a hurry to help me.

"The quicker you get your sexy ass over here, the faster we're out of here."

"I'm kind of starting to enjoy this," Sam grinned.

"Alright, then, I'm just going to ask the kind man over there who's been busy staring at my boobs for the past two minutes while _you_'ve been busy being witty." I stepped out of the cubicle towards the thirty-something, dark-haired, quite handsome man who was standing a couple of feet away. He was intently inspecting the clothes his girlfriend or sister had handed him to try distract from the fact he'd been staring at me just now.

I never got two steps closer to him, though. Sam practically jumped up and pushed me back in the changing room, zipping up my dress one-handedly as he did so.

"Now, was that so hard?" I grinned victoriously.

"You mind not running around publicly half-naked?" Sam growled.

"You didn't mind just three seconds ago."

"Three seconds ago that son of a bitch wasn't checking out my wife."

I turned around and kissed him. "I love it when you go all jealous and overprotective caveman."

"Could you just finish up here?"

I laughed quietly to myself, enjoying the warm feeling that spread inside of me. Saturday night seemed almost forgotten, like part of another world. So did anything evil and painful right now; today we were just a family like any other.

"Purple or green?" I held up the two tops in question.

"I don't know. Green."

"Alright. Though….I kind of like the purple one, too."

Sam threw up his free arm exasperatedly, "Then take both."

I threw the two silken sleeveless tops a measuring look. "Nah, I'll only take the green one."

"Great. Now, you done?"

"Geez, you're so impatient."

"I…" Sam shook his head, obviously he gave up on arguing.

I smiled secretly to myself. For all differences of our lives and the lives of other couples, some arguments were apparently the same in almost every relationship.

"Okay, done."

"Awesome, now let's go. And don't look left or right, go straight to the cashier."

"Weren't you the one who gave me that talk about patience is a virtue?"

"Yes, and if I remember correctly, you were the one who said it was all crap."

I ignored all the curios looks Sam and I got as we waited in line. The two teenage girls in front of us turned around more or less discreetly and gave Sam an appreciative once-over. Well, more like five-over.

I would have thought a baby must have been a buzz kill; but no such thing. They kept on staring shamelessly.

"Rachel, you heard anything of what I just said?"

"Yeah," I replied automatically, my eyes narrowing. That's _my_ girl he's carrying on his arm, and _my_ ring on his finger, you two arrogant little-

"Right."

Now their gazes were fixed on Sam's broad shoulders, dreamy and desiring glowing on their faces.

"You lost something back here?" I snapped.

They jolted and turned back around. Finally.

"Unbelievable," I mumbled.

"What?"

"You mean to tell me you didn't notice those two bitches checking you out?" I hissed under my breath.

Sam looked at me cluelessly, then at the two girls in front of us. "Um…"

"Never mind then," I beamed and kissed him.

What I had actually predicted to take five minutes had turned into a half-hour stay, and Sam looked accordingly exasperated.

That was, until he discovered the 'home depot'.

"Maybe they have those…" He named some object that I had never heard of and was gone before I could hold him back.

With a sigh, I followed him and spent the next half hour trapped inside rows and rows of wooden panels, nails and all sorts of other stuff that made up a house.

"Sam, what _else_ do you need?"

"Sam, are we done now?"

"Sam, can we go get a coffee?"

I got the same answer every time: "Just one more minute, Ral."

After thirty times of 'one more minute's, we finally left, and now I was the one who looked exasperated.

Until I passed the 'shoe rack'.

"Oh, no, Ral-" Sam tried grabbing my arm and softly hold me back, but I was quicker.

"Rachel, baby, you already have like a hundred pair!"

"Nonsense," I excitedly opened the first of the ten plus boxes I had assembled around me. "I've got 70 pair, tops."

Sam rolled his eyes. "When do you wear all of those, anyways?"

"Well, honey, you see, there are summer shoes, winter shoes, spring shoes, autumn shoes, mid-season shoes…"

"For the love of God, Rachel."

"What? It's one tiny tick of mine, I think you can handle that."

"Except for you have _a few_ other ticks."

"It's what makes me loveable, so shut up." I got up and admired the red heels I'd just slipped on.

"You know, Ral, the point in earning money is not to spend it right away on things you already have in masses."

"You would know about the point of earning money _how_?" I smiled and lovingly kissed his lips. "Credit card fraud doesn't count as earning."

Most men would have felt hurt in their pride or manhood or whatever when their wife brought home the money; Sam was completely cool with it. Sure, it wasn't like he had any other option, really, but still; it was a trait I highly valued him for.

"Point remains, princess: Hurry up, and if possible, leave this store without pair 71 and 72."

"Doesn't this argument strike you as a little stereotypical?"

"You were the one who turned into an excited little school girl when she walked into a shoe store." Sam raised his eyebrows.

"And you were the one who complained about me having too many shoes."

We looked at each other.

"We're not seriously arguing about arguing, are we?" I asked dryly.

"I think we are."

"Alright, time to go," I said resolutely, jumped up, grabbed my purse and bags and took Sam's hand, pulling him towards the exit.

"Honey, you are away you're about to leave a shoe store without buying anything?"

"Yes, and putting an end to this horribly stereotypical scene. Let's have Starbucks."

Sam followed me laughingly, and as I sat across from him some minutes later, a steaming cup of Vanilla Latte in front of me, I was glad to see the shadows had gone from his face. The lines had stayed, but he didn't look so close to falling off the edge any longer.

"Is this what you imagined yourself to have back then, at Stanford?" I asked and traced little patterns on the back of his hand with my fingertip.

"No, not quite. I wanted out of hunting for good, I wanted to be a lawyer and…"

"You wanted to marry Jessica." No bitterness tainted my voice. Why should it?

"Yes. But things were different then, and now… _this_ is exactly what I want." He took my hand and kissed the palm. "Is this what _you_ wanted for yourself?"

"No," I replied flatly, "It's better than I ever dared to hope."

I would take this challenging life style with my hunter husband's broken soul over a perfect apple pie life with a gentle, perfect banker husband any day. Even when I nearly broke apart over Sam's pain, I would not trade this for anything.

"Hey, Ral…" Sam started when I closed the dishwasher after dinner and switched it on.

"Yeah?"

"So what _is_ for dessert tonight?"

I grinned lewdly and straddled him, locking my arms behind his neck. "What's on your mind?"

"I've got a few ideas."

"Oh, _a few_? Well, now I'm curious."

Sam stood up with me on his arms, my legs wrapped around his waist, and sat me down on the dining table while placing hot kisses all over my neck.

It turned out to be a long, pleasure-filled night, and if it weren't for the haunted look in Sam's eyes when I fell asleep in his arms, one could almost have assumed we were just a young couple like any other.

Almost. That little word seemed forever to be the obstacle. Would I ever be able to say 'absolutely'?

Like a cat, I stretched and uncurled when my alarm clock mercilessly ripped me from my sleep. A quick look at Sam's face told me he hadn't slept this night. How he remained upright, I've had no idea, and it worried me.

"Baby… you need sleep," I said gently.

"Not much," He replied in a tone that implied he wouldn't discuss this any further now.

I sighed. How long would this go on? When would Sam finally be granted peace?

"When's the last time you saw a razor?" I ran my hand over Sam's stubble, placing a kiss on his cheek.

"Probably last time you saw a hair dresser," Sam replied lovingly. He was right; I really could use a hair cut. Since my unruly curls disguised the lack of thereof rather well, however, it wasn't that far up my priority list.

"Touché," I chuckled and unwillingly got out of bed to get ready for work.

I hated leaving my husband and daughter alone, hated missing just one minute with them, but I couldn't call in sick every time Sam was home, so I dragged myself into the office and somehow passed the seven hours until I could finally leave and be with them again.

"Welcome home, love," Sam greeted me after the door had fell into its lock behind me.

Home. My sanctuary.

I kissed Sam and then, with a little trouble, found a clean spot on Hazel's mush-covered face and gave her a peck, too. "I'm so glad to _be_ home."

For most women, it was natural to have a family waiting for them at home, or to have a husband who was home every night; for me, every day of Sam, Hazel and me being all together was a treasure. You only ever truly knew what you had when you had to fight to the last breath to get it; when a _home_ and a _family_ wasn't something you took for granted.

Two nights later, Sam took Hazel with him into our bed and placed the Colt on the nightstand.

Upon my inquiringly raised eyebrows, he just said: "It's February 9th."

Hazel's six month's birthday.

"Right," I nodded and refrained from pointing out once again that Azazel was dead. As Sam had snapped one day before when I had dared to inform him of that; that wasn't for certain. If his grandfather could come back from the dead, there was no proof a demon couldn't do the same.

I was glad Sam was here to look out for Hazel and me; I felt safe. Even if an army of demons had been waiting outside of our house; I knew they'd never get us with Sam protecting us.

"Sam… when are you going to get some sleep?" I cuddled closer to him. Sam's one arm was draped around me, his other one held Hazel pressed against his chest.

"Soon," He replied evasively.

I sighed; I knew deep within me that high proof liquor would play its part in that. For tonight, though, I wouldn't think about that. One problem at a time.

"Sam."

"Mhm."

"I love you."

"As I love you."

"And… Thank you. For catching me when I fell from the highest cliff. For every single thing you have done and are doing."

"I would do anything for you, Rachel." He kissed me lovingly and whispered so quietly it could already have been part of my dream: "Thank you for being who you are."

Sam and I had our issues, sure. In fact, we probably had worse problems than others. We were each haunted by memories of our past, I by my loveless childhood, the life of deprivations that had broken me; Sam by the apocalypse and, worst of all, hell, that had broken his soul.

As we had sworn each other on our wedding day, though: No matter how bad it gets, we'd stand through it together, and nothing would ever prevail over our love.

Not hell, not demons and their blood, not drinking, not the ever-present fear of what could come and of what the next day could bring, not our differences, not our clashing lifestyles. Not even death.

_Absolutely_ nothing.

I could say that my life was almost perfect.

Fact was, though: It was _absolutely_ perfect, with all its problems, painful memories and deprivations.

Because I had Sam, and that's all I ever needed.

**###**

**I've been wondering whether to make two more chapters or just one; it ended up with this being the last one because I disliked the idea of drawing the story out just for the sake of another chapter.**

**Thank you all so much for reading, favoriting, reviewing and staying with me until the end! :) I hope you have all enjoyed this story! I was so positively surprised at the feedback I got and would like to thank you for your input! It is always greatly appreciated.**

**I've got a few ideas for a sequel, but whether it'll come to it depends on you; whether you'd like to read more of Rachel, Sam, Hazel and Dean, Lisa and Ben, and whether you think that the end isn't told yet.**

**As I always like to say: The last chapter of a story is really just the first of another. ;) **

**xoxo**


End file.
